fkmcker  bo  cker 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


T  was  a  well-aimed  broadside,  and  brought 
our  maintop  to  the  deck." 

(See  page  211.) 


Will  o'  The  Wasp 

A  Sea  Yarn  of  the 
War  of  '  12 


Edited  by  Henry  Lawrence,    U.S.N., 

and  now  brought  before  the  public 

for  the  first  time 


BY 


Robert  Cameron  Rogers 


PUBLISHED,  1896,  IN  NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON, 
BY  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


COPYRIGHT,  1896 
BY  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS 


"Che  Knickerbocker  press,  Ita?  ttocbdle,  fU  fi. 


PS 

3535 


CONTENTS 


CHAP,  ;  PAGB. 

WASP  WILLY  :   A  PROLOGUE             .        .  i 

I.     How  I  SIGNED  WITH  CAPTAIN  BLAKELY  .  15 

II.     How  WE  BORE  AWAY  TO  THE  CHOPS  OF 

THE  BRITISH  CHANNEL         ...  35 

III.     How  WE  TOOK  THE  "  REINDEER"  BRIG-O'- 

WAR     .                «        .        .        .        .  67 

IV.     THE  WAYS  OF  NANCY  BARKER        .        .  91 

V.     How  NANCY  BARKER  SHIPPED  ABOARD  THE 

"WASP" 115 

VI.     How  WE  TEASED  THE    "ARMADA"  AND 

SUNK  THE  "  AVON  "     ....  137 

VII.     How  THE  WARD-ROOM  DRANK  TO  NANCY 

BARKER 171 

VIII.     How  JIM  DOWNS  TOOK  FRENCH  LEAVE  .  186 

IX.     How  JOSH  SEWALL  WENT  TO  SARAH        .  198 

X.     How  I  SAW  THE  LAST  OF  THE  "  WASP  "     .  209 

XI.     How  I  CAME,  ON  PAROLE,  TO  PLYMOUTH 

TOWN 225 

XII.     How    I    FOUND    NANCY    AND    DROPPED 

ANCHOR       .        .               .        .        .  250 


"There  is  a  rumor  that  an  English  frigate  went  into 
Cadiz  much  crippled,  and  with  a  very  severe  loss  in  men, 
about  this  time,  and  that  she  reported  her  injuries  to 
have  been  received  in  an  engagement  with  a  heavy 
American  corvette  the  latter  disappearing  so  suddenly  in 
the  night  that  it  was  thought  she  had  sunk." 

COOPER'S  Naval  History 
(Respecting  the  fate  of  the  Wasp}. 


WILL  O'  THE  WASP. 


Wasp  Willy. 

A  PROLOGUE. 

T  WAS  second  officer  aboard  the  U.  S. 
sloop-of-war  Dahcotah,  in  the  year  1866. 
We  were  attached  to  the  North  Atlantic 
squadron,  and  in  June  of  the  year,  one  after 
noon  in  the  early  part  of  the  month,  lay  to 
for  a  few  hours  off  the  little  North  Devon 
town  of  Clovelly.  I  had  obtained  permis 
sion  to  go  ashore,  spend  a  few  days,  and 
rejoin  at  Plymouth,  and  it  was  with  keen 
pleasure  that  I  donned  "  cits  "  and  took  my 
place  in  the  cutter. 

Our  flag  hung  from  the  spanker  gaff,  and 
as  it  flew  straight  north  in  the  wind,  I  never 
saw  it  look  more  beautiful.  It  may  be  I 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


felt  more  than  common  pleasure  in  the 
bunting  at  that  time,  for  it  had  just  weath 
ered  one  of  the  fiercest  wars  of  the  century, 
and  was  now  flying  in  the  breeze  of  a  land 
which,  despite  all  ties  of  blood,  had  been 
little  better  than  an  enemy. 

It  was  with  surprise  then,  that,  attracted 
by  an  exclamation  of  the  coxswain,  I  fol 
lowed  the  direction  of  his  gaze  and  saw  a 
singular  sight. 

On  the  landing  stage  towards  which  our 
boat  was  headed,  stood  an  old  man,  gaunt 
and  tall,  clad  in  rough  blue  serge  ;  upon  his 
head  a  sailor's  cap  that  might  have  graced 
the  brow  of  some  seaman  of  Decatur's  time. 
His  white  beard  fell  like  a  frill  from  his 
pointed  chin  and  spread  almost  from  one 
ear  to  the  other.  Over  his  right  shoulder, 
and  this  was  what  had  stirred  the  coxswain's 
wonder,  he  carried  a  flag,  faded  and  minus 
many  stars  in  its  blue  field,  but  still  the  grid 
iron.  He  was  surrounded  by  a  rabble  of 
half-grown  lads,  some  laughing  at  him,  some 
jeering.  At  his  elbow  stood  a  grave  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


stalwart  middle-aged  woman.  The  old  man, 
whose  eyes  were  fixed  upon  us  as  we  neared 
the  landing,  paid  no  heed  to  his  tormentors, 
but  now  and  again  the  woman,  making  a 
little  run,  would  fetch  some  lout  of  a  boy  a 
sounding  cuff  upon  the  ear,  at  which  the 
yells  of  laughter  would  be  tempered  with 
rage.  As  I  stepped  from  the  boat,  the 
strange  old  figure,  paying  no  deference  to 
me — I  was  in  civilian's  garb, — pushed  by 
and  hailed  the  coxswain. 

"  God  be  praised  !  "  he  shouted,  bringing 
his  flag  to  an  order  with  a  wild  flourish, 
"  you  're  the  first  Yankee  man-o'-war's-men 
I  Ve  seen  in  twnty  year.  What  's  the 
news,  what  's  the  news,  mates?  —  I  'm 
William  Fry,  seaman,  of  the  United  States 
sloop  Wasp — on  parole.  What  's  the  news, 
bullies  ?  Did  n't  we  sink  that  steam  pirate, 
hay?  I  can't  hear  ye — I  'm  gettin'  old." 

The  men,  laughing,  looked  towards  me  as 
the  one  to  do  the  talking,  and  the  coxswain 
called : 

"  There  's  the  lieutenant,  mate,  ask  him." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


The  old  sea-dog  turned  at  once  to  me  and 
pulled  at  a  wisp  of  hair  that  still  represented 
his  forelock. 

"  I  ask  yer  pardin,  sir,"  he  said,  "  I  did  n't 
know  you  in  the  shore  togs — I  'm  William 
Fry,  of  the  sloop  Wasp,  Captain  Blakely, 
sir — on  parole.  Ask  your  pardin,  sir,  for 
letting  my  jaw  tackle  run,  but  I  haint  seen 
the  gridiron,  only  this  'ere  one  I  got,  thirty 
year  ago,  till  now,  nor  a  boat  crew  of  Yankee 
man-o'-war's-men  in  the  Lord  knows  when. 
Wasp,  sir,  Cap'n  Blakely,  did  ye  know  him, 
sir?  I  be'n  here  a  prisoner  of  war  God 
knows  how  long — on  parole  now,  on  parole." 

"  Hi,  Wasp  Willy !  Wasp  Willy  !  Yankee 
Bill  wi*  a  crack  in  his  crown ! "  yelled  the  mob 
of  boys  behind  him.  In  a  sudden  rage  the 
old  man  flew  about  and  charged  the  group, 
who  scattered  with  redoubled  yells. 

"  There  you  go,  you  bloody  young  sons  of 
rock  rabbits !  I  've  chased  yer  fathers  afore 
ye,  jest  that  way,  damn  yer  eyes !  "  He 
came  back  swearing  and  breathless  and 
apologetic 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  5 


"You  see,  sir,  my  girl  here,  this  is  her; 
Jane  Fry, — Lieutenant — what  's  the  name, 
sir?" 

"  Lawrence." 

"  Lawrence.  She  repels  boarders  mostly, 
for  me,  but  they  get  too  much  for  the  old 
blood  sometimes.  Yes,  sir,  I  'm  seventy- 
seven  years  old ;  seventy-seven  I  am,  an' 
twenty-five  was  I  when  I  shipped  aboard  the 
Wasp  with  Captain  Blakely.  Did  ye  say  ye 
knew  him  ?  " 

Know  Blakely !  Yes,  I  knew  him,  as 
every  schoolboy  who  read  and  re-read 
Cooper's  Naval  History,  and  swore,  after  a 
whipping,  to  run  away  to  sea,  knew  him. 
Blakely,  of  the  Wasp — the  second  ship  of 
that  fighting  name, — which  sailed  from  Ports 
mouth  in  my  grandfather's  day,  took  and 
burned  a  dozen  prizes,  fought  and  whipped 
the  Reindeer,  fought  and  sunk  the  Avon,  and 
then  disappeared, — some  said  in  the  stress  of 
a  fearful  fight,  or  the  grip  of  a  storm. 

The  old  man  did  n't  give  me  time  to  reply. 
"  Ask  your  pardin  again,  sir,"  he  said,  "  but 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


might  I  ask  some  of  my  mates  here  to  take  a 
glass  with  me,  yonder,  sir,  to  the  Blue  Bell 
tavern — just  a  step  ?  "  The  men  looked  at 
me  inquiringly.  There  was  no  reason  for 
denying  the  request.  Here  was  I,  in  no 
hurry,  off  duty,  and  eager  to  see  a  little  of 
the  people  in  this  quaint  town.  I  could  wait 
a  few  minutes,  and  chat  with  a  couple  of  bat 
tered  worthies  who  had  drawn  near. 

"  Well,  go,  lads,"  I  said.  "  Be  back  in  a 
quarter  hour  ;  I  '11  watch  the  boat — Jim,  you 
can  go  too." 

The  men  with  alacrity  sprang  ashore,  and 
the  old  sailor,  forgetting  me  at  the  moment, 
started  briskly  towards  the  street,  his  daugh 
ter  at  one  side,  the  flag  waving  above  his 
head,  and  a  knot  of  brown-faced  seamen 
rolling  in  his  wake.  It  was  a  quaint  proces 
sion,  and  I  laughed  outright.  A  grizzled 
fisherman  stood  near  me,  and  laughed  too. 
"  Who  is  that  old  lad,  my  man  ?  "  I  asked. 

"Why,  zur,  it 's  one  they  call  Wasp  Willy, 
or  Will  o'  the  Wasp,  an'  Will  o'  the  Wisp, 
some  do.  'E  's  gone  wrong  in  his  tops,  zur, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


but  a  good,  harmless  old  lad.  'E  's  lived  here 
or  hereabout,  at  Bidevor  or  Combe-Martin, 
or  here,  fifty  odd  year." 

"  Is  he  what  he  says  he  is  ?  No  one  ever 
came  back  from  the  Wasp's  last  cruise  but 
the  men  on  a  prize  ship."  The  old  man 
rubbed  his  head. 

"  Wy,  zur,"  he  said,  "  'e  says  so — and  none 
can  deny  him — 'e  gets  that  rusty  an'  takes  on 
so.  Then  his  girl  Jane  's  a  good  true  soul, 
and  she  says  as  how  the  old  man  has  a  book, 
a  kind  o'  log-book,  zur,  as  tells  as  how  'e  was 
took  an'  how  his  ship  went  down.  An'  'e  's 
served  somewhere  sure  enough,  zur,  for  he 
used  to  make  pretty  play  in  a  broadsword 
match  when  he  was  a  younger  man.  'E  's 
handled  the  cutlass,  zur,  an'  no  mistake." 

Further  questioning  brought  out  the  fact 
that  this  curious  old  relic  had  for  the  last 
twenty  years  been  under  the  impression  that 
he  was  a  prisoner  of  war,  upon  parole.  All 
statements  that  England  and  America  were 
at  peace  were  lost  upon  him.  He  did  not 
quite  realize  the  meaning  of  the  war  between 


8  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


the  States,  but  he  was  aware,  from  being 
gibed  at  various  times  by  hangers-on  at  the 
tavern,  that  there  was  a  ship  called  the  Ala 
bama  sinking  our  merchant  marine.  While 
we  talked,  a  noise  of  cheering  and  laughter 
came  from  the  street.  The  old  seaman  had 
come  out  of  the  tavern,  was  swinging  flag  in 
one  hand,  cap  in  the  other,  and  cheering 
lustily.  Then  he  would  laugh,  and  shake  his 
fist  at  a  group  apparently  within  the  tavern, 
whose  door  stood  open.  His  words  were 
borne  to  me  with  distinctness  : 

"  Sunk  'er  in  one  hour — hear  that,  ye 
lobster  catchers  !  Sunk  'er  in  one  hour,  an' 
lost  but  one  man — hear  me,  ye  liars  !  Half 
her  crew  was  English — English,  d'  ye  hear  ! 
Gunners  trained  aboard  yer  ships  in  Ports 
mouth.  They  never  could  shoot !  Sunk 
the  Alabamy !  Could  n't  do  it,  hay? — In 
just  an  hour  !  Come  on,  mates,  we  '11  have 
one  more." 

I  saw  him  turn,  gather  a  couple  of  my  blue 
jackets  into  his  wide  embrace,  and  force 
them,  with  no  great  difficulty,  towards  the 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


tavern  door  again.  To  my  relief  they  came 
out  almost  at  once  and  hurried  laughing 
towards  the  gig. 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  the  coxswain,  as  he  came 
up,  "  that  there  Billy  is  an  old  sailor,  sure 
enough  ;  he  's  got  arms  that  beat  anything 
I  ever  see.  Wasp  tatooed  on  one  arm,  an' 
Essex  on  it  too.  He  says  he  served  with 
Porter  an'  came  home  on  a  prize  crew  from 
the  South  Seas.  An'  the  boss  up  to  the 
tavern  says  the  old  lad  's  a  man-o'-war's-man 
an'  no  fooling.  I  said  he  'd  better  join  us  an' 
go  home,  but  he  says  he  's  goin'  to  be  ex 
changed.  He  's  inside  now  quarrelling  with 
a  half  dozen  swabs  who  he  swears  lied  to 
him  'bout  the  Alabamy  fight.  I  guess  the 
old  man  's  genuine,  sir — he  talks  man-of-war 
all  right." 

"  Did  you  ask  him  how  he  came  here  ?  " 
"Yes,  sir — said  he  was  took  in  1814  an' 
landed  in  Plymouth — heard  there  was  a 
place  called  Bideford,  and  as  he  came  from 
Biddeford  down  in  Maine,  he  thought  he  'd 
steer  for  that  there  port.  There  he  got 


io  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


married  to  some  girl  he  says  was  called 
Gunner  Nancy,  or  some  such  name,  an'  had 
fought  aboard  a  British  ship — oh,  he  's  crazy 
enough,  sir,  some  ways,  I  '11  bet,  an'  he  's 
got  the  prettiest  cutlass  scar  across  his  nut  I 
ever  see." 

When  the  gig  had  pushed  off  I  took  my 
way  up  into  the  rambling  town,  that  looks 
like  a  little  city  from  South  Italy  dropped 
out  of  the  lap  of  some  cyclone  on  to  the 
North  Devon  coast.  I  wanted  to  see  more 
of  Will  o'  the  Wasp,  and  I  was  not  disap 
pointed.  Just  before  I  reached  the  door  of 
the  "  Bluebell,"  out  he  came,  his  daughter 
still  following  him  closely.  He  was  plainly 
flushed  by  his  liquor  and  the  stirring  news  of 
the  last  few  minutes.  He  carried  on  a  loud 
monologue  as  he  strode  up  the  street,  his  old 
cap  pulled  over  his  eyes,  and  the  flag  flaunt 
ing  across  his  shoulder.  He  was  still  glory 
ing  in  the  account  of  the  Kearsarges  fight 
and  spreading  curses  in  a  broadcast  manner 
for  all  who  had  ever  doubted  its  result.  He 
was  truculent  in  word  and  bearing,  so  true- 


Will  o'  the  Wasp.  1 1 


ulent,  that  a  remnant  of  his  persecutors, 
upon  being  charged  by  him  and  sent  briskly 
to  the  lower  world,  left  him  quite  alone.  I 
saw  that  people  of  mature  years  looked  at 
him  with  kindliness  and  good-humor,  and 
several  spoke  pleasantly  to  his  daughter  as 
she  toiled  up  the  steep  street  about  a  rod 
behind.  At  last  he  reached  his  own  house, 
one  of  a  score  like  it  in  Clovelly — low  door, 
and  stone  threshold  well-worn,  narrow  win 
dows,  and  a  platform  outside  the  door  from 
which  one  might  view  the  sea.  He  went  in 
side  with  a  bang  to  of  the  door.  In  a  mo 
ment  an  upper  window  opened,  the  flag 
came  through,  and  the  sash  closed  upon  the 
staff,  holding  it  in  place.  I  was  at  the 
woman's  side  as  she  reached  the  house.  She 
recognized  me,  and  curtsied,  looking,  as  I 
thought,  a  little  shamefaced. 

"Tell  me,"  I  said,  "how  much  of  what 
your  father  says  is  true,  and  what  is  fancy?" 
"  About  his  being  in  the  wars,  sir?  " 
"Yes — the    war    between     England    and 
America  in  1812." 


12  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  Why,  sir,  I  think  that  's  mostly  true,  sir 
— the  rector,  sir,  comes  sometimes  and  talks 
wi'  him,  an'  he  says  as  how  it  sounds  true, 
an'  my  mother — she  died  when  I  was  but  a 
child — used  to  say  't  was  all  as  father  made 
out.  Some  days,  sir,  he  's  strange,  an'  to 
day  't  was  the  ship  an'  the  flag,  an'  all,  mazed 
him  a  bit,  an'  his  drink,  sir — it  's  that  I  'm 
fearful  of,  for  it  does  always  maze  him  cruel. 
You  see,  sir,  he  's  been  hit  hard  on  the  head 
when  a  young  man,  an'  when  he 's  excited  he 
goes  very  queer  at  times." 

"  Well,  how  about  that  diary — that  log 
book  of  his  cruise  in  the  Wasp  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  He 's  got  it  sir,  an'  keeps  it  under  lock 
an'  key  in  his  chest.  He  swears  it  '11  be 
worth  money  some  day  for  history ;  but 
Lord,  sir,  't  will  but  be  fit  for  to  kindle  a 
fire,  I  fear." 

"  Still,"  I  said,  "  there  may  be  something 
interesting  and  valuable  in  it,  anyhow  to  an 
American  sailor.  Here  is  my  name,  and  this 
will  be  my  address  the  next  two  weeks.  If 
your  father  cares  to  part  with  that  journal  you 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  13 


can  drop  me  a  line,  for  I  '11  be  this  way  again 
in  a  fortnight,  and  if  it  's  curious,  as  I  guess 
it  will  be,  I  '11  make  you  an  offer." 

Ten  days  later,  to  my  address  in  Exeter, 
came  a  letter  and  a  parcel.  The  letter  ran  : 

"  LIEUTENANT  LAWRENCE  :  SIR, — My 
father's  health  was  very  bad  after  you  left. 
*T  was  the  drink  and  excitement,  I  fear.  A 
week  later  he  was  took  serious  and  died.  He 
left  me  all  but  his  flag — that  he  had  wrapped 
round  him  in  his  coffin — and  his  book.  He 
told  me  and  made  me  promise  solemn  to 
give  this,  his  log,  he  called  it,  to  you,  for  I 
told  him  what  you  'd  asked  me,  and  he  was 
set  upon  its  being  made  into  history.  I 
found  much  in  ;t  that  was  private-like  about 
himself  and  mother,  and  asked  him  to  let  me 
keep  that  back,  but  he  says, '  't  is  all  a  part  of 
the  cruise  of  the  Wasp,  and  all  goes  or  none,' 
and  he  made  me  swear  solemn  to  send  it  to 
you.  If  you  think  it  worth  anything  you 
may  give  me  what  you  think  is  right,  and 
when  you  may  be  done  with  it,  please  send 
it  to  me  again.  I  live  in  the  old  house  to 
Clovelly.  "  Yours  respectfully, 

"JANE  FRY." 


14  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


After  reading  the  journal,  I  sent  what 
turned  out  to  be  a  satisfactory  remuneration. 
I  made  up  my  mind  to  edit  it  upon  my  own 
responsibility,  as  a  chapter  in  the  history  of 
the  last  war  with  England  never  opened  be 
fore,  and  as  a  romance  as  well.  The  diary, 
which  is  in  many  places  a  sort  of  auto 
biography,  was  apparently  written  some 
years  after  the  events  described  took  place, 
and  is  based  upon  the  data  of  a  log  kept  by 
the  old  seaman  during  his  service  upon  the 
Wasp.  It  has  the  ring  of  truth  about  it, 
though  for  its  authenticity  none  can  vouch. 
It  gives  one  a  version  of  the  end  of  the 
gallant  Blakely  and  his  sloop-of-war  that  I 
for  one  am  glad  to  adopt.  I  have  tried  as 
closely  as  may  be  to  retain  the  seaman's 
idiom  and  syntax,  while  turning  the  entire 
story  into  a  coherent  narrative.  For  what  it 
may  be  worth  then,  as  history,  or,  as  they 
say  in  the  Navy,  a  good  yarn,  I  submit  it  to 
the  public. 

HENRY  LAWRENCE. 
U.  S.  N. 


CHAPTER   I. 

HOW   I   SIGNED   WITH   CAPTAIN   BLAKELY. 

/~~\F  all  lucky  cruises,  so  far  as  I  and  my 

mates  thought,  Captain  Porter's  in  the 
South  Seas  was  luckiest — till  he  struck  the 
rock  he  split  on  in  Valparaiso  Bay. 

It  was  nothing  but  prize,  prize,  prize  ; 
whalers  and  merchantmen  ;  with  just  a  smell 
of  powder,  now  and  again,  to  keep  the  gun 
ners  in  good  temper.  The  Captain  and  the 
folks  in  the  ward-room  worried  sometimes, 
I  Ve  heard,  about  meeting  nothing  of  our 
size  to  lay  alongside;  but  as  for  me,  I  was 
content  as  things  ran. 

They  got  all  the  fight  they  wanted,  later  on, 
and  took  it  like  the  game  cocks  they  were. 

You  can't  make  me  see  much  to  brag  on  in 
that  fight  off  Valparaiso.  Two  to  one  and 
long  range  !  They  never  dared  come  aboard, 
15 


1 6  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


and  a  neutral  harbor  too  !  But  that  's  John 
— that 's  his  way.  If  there  's  something  to 
be  gained,  why,  it 's  "  Damn  neutrality  in  a 
nation  I  can  whip  ! " 

But  it  was  my  fortune  to  be  put  aboard 
the  Hector,  merchantman,  in  a  prize  crew  and 
sent  home  long  before  the  fight,  and  home  I 
got  in  due  time,  and  found  myself  the  spring 
of  1814  in  Portsmouth  town,  pockets  full  of 
money  and  a  good  opinion  of  myself  as  well, 
and  both  these  facts,  as  I  shall  tell,  brought 
me  to  ship  aboard  the  Wasp.  I  was  minded 
to  lay  by  for  a  few  months.  I  had  plenty 
money  yet  to  make  a  merry  summer  of  it, 
and  had  sent  home  a  tidy  sum,  as  well,  to 
Biddeford,  for  I  'm  a  down  Easter.  I  had  n't 
the  notion  of  going  to  sea  again  till  I  had  to, 
and  I  knew  the  Wasp,  that  they  'd  been  try 
ing  to  get  me  to  ship  aboard,  was  going  out 
for  fighting.  I  knew  all  about  Blakely,  her 
captain,  and  what  kind  of  a  man  he  was. 

Now,  I  don't  call  myself  a  coward,  and  the 
one  man  that  ever  did  I  whipped  till  he  took 
it  back ;  but  life  's  a  good  thing,  and  shore, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  17 


if  you  have  some  money  about  you,  is  pleas 
ant  after  a  long  cruise,  and  though  I  was 
willing  to  fight,  I  was  n't  the  sort  who  'd 
rather  do  it  than  eat.  Thinks  I :  "  While  I 
can  find  a  white  dollar  by  looking  in  my 
pockets,  I  won't  go  a-seeking  it  to  sea. 
When  the  money  goes  I  '11  go  too,  and  the 
war 's  good  to  last  a  good  year  more,  I 
guess."  So  I  would  n't  ship. 

There  were  a  parcel  of  'em  after  me.  I 
was  a  good-looking  young  man,  I  reckon. 
Six  foot  I  stood  in  my  stockings,  and  though 
not  very  broad,  I  was  deep  and  wiry.  I  was 
but  twenty-five,  and  my  habits,  bar  a  frolic 
now  and  then,  were  good. 

Well,  there  was  a  lad  I  knew,  a  town  lad, 
in  a  dry-goods  store  in  Portsmouth,  that  I  'd 
had  a  little  trouble  with.  He  and  I  were 
courting  the  same  girl,  a  nice  girl  she  was, 
and  a  daughter  of  old  Aaron  Truby  of  River 
Street.  Well,  she  liked  me  best,  though  the 
other — Jim  Downs  was  his  name — sung  in 
the  choir  ;  and  so  Jim  ships  aboard  the  Wasp 
and  tries  to  get  me  to  come  along. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"Bill,"  says  he,  one  day,  down  on  the  wharf, 
"  I  'm  going  to  sea  in  the  trimmest,  sweetest 
craft  you  ever  clapped  your  lights  on  " — he 
was  quick  to  pick  up  the  lingo  he  did  n't 
half  understand, — "  and  her  captain  's  the 
king-pin  of  the  lot,"  says  he.  "  Why  don't 
you  ship  with  us  ?  You  're  an  old  man-o'- 
war's-man  by  your  own  account." 

"  Steady,"  says  I,  "  by  my  mates'  account, 
as  well." 

"  Oh,  no  offence,"  he  says,  laughing.  "  Only 
I  thought  maybe  you  'd  be  game  for  another 
crack  at  John." 

I  told  him  how  things  were  with  me  ;  how 
I  was  minded  to  lay  off  the  summer;  that  I 
had  a  couple  of  hundred  dollars  by  me  yet, 
and  that  the  war  would  last.  He  looked  at 
me  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye,  as  I  quit  talking, 
and  says : 

"  Two  hundred  dollars  won't  keep  a  wife, 
Billy.  Come  along,  man,  and  make  a  few 
hundred  more  ;  that  '11  be  hard  sense,"  says 
he. 

Now  this  was  n't  his  business,  and  I  told 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  19 


him  so,  and  told  him  so  straight.  He  riled 
me  and  always  had,  and  I  sent  him  along. 
Off  he  goes  looking  sour,  but  he  knew  too 
much  to  try  to  come  aboard  me.  Next  day  I 
met  the  boatswain  of  the  Wasp  with  three  or 
four  lads  at  his  heels,  one  of  them  old  Josh 
Sewall,  who  'd  fought  aboard  the  Bon  Homme 
Richard  in  '79,  and  who  knew  me  well.  I 
saw  boatswain  tip  Josh  the  wink,  and  the  old 
man  comes  up  to  me  very  friendly. 

"  Bill,"  says  he,  "  we  're  looking  for  a  man 
of  your  size,"  says  he,  "  and  a  good,  all  round 
seaman  like  you  ;  now,  my  bully,"  says  he, 
"  you  're  too  good  a  man  to  rot  in  drydock, 
and  too  young.  Here  's  Cap'n  Blakely  and 
the  trimmest  sloop  o'  war  that  swims,  from 
here  to  Good  Hope  and  home  by  way  of 
the  Horn,"  says  he.  "  Lots  of  prize  money, 
stiff  fighting,  maybe,  for  I  won't  lie  to  you, 
and  I  know  Captain  Blakely  ;  and  a  well  put 
up  man,  like  you,  a  tried  seaman,  as  well, 
may  look  for  a  lift,  if  others  knocks  under." 

Well,  he  kept  at  me  for  maybe  a  quarter 
hour ;  they  seemed  bound  to  get  me,  for 


20  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


when  I  'd  shook  off  Josh,  two  other  seamen 
of  Blakely's  hove  me  to,  and  paid  away  the 
same  coil  of  talk.  But  I  was  set  in  my  own 
notion,  and  the  more  they  talked  the  closer 
I  stuck  to  it.  I  see  now  that  it  began  to 
make  me  feel  like  a  pretty  big  man  to  have 
them  chase  me  up  this  way,  and  by  night 
of  this  day  I  felt  a  little  bit  more  than  plain 
William  Fry.  We  'd  have  a  little  something 
now  and  again  to  grease  the  tackle  with,  and 
by  night  I  was  running  free  and  all  sail  set. 
Now  there  was  a  little  tavern  in  River  Street 
where  sailors  used  to  go  to  drop  a  few  dol 
lars  over  dice,  maybe,  or  stand  a  few  rounds 
of  ale  or  Medford,  and  there  that  night  was 
I,  and  with  me  every  man  who  'd  talked 
Wasp  with  me  that  day,  and  drink  was 
plenty  and  jaw-tackle  loose.  Josh  Sewall  had 
served  aboard  the  Constitution,  and  sang  a 
song  going  the  round  those  days  that  went — 

"  The  Guerriere  a  frigate  bold 
As  e'er  on  foaming  ocean  rolled," 

and  so  on,  telling  how  she  could  lick  the 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  21 


Frenchmen  two  to  one,  but  how  we  whipped 
her. 

Josh  seemed  very  drunk,  and  kept  at  me 
all  the  time  with  :  "  Here  's  to  Cap'n  Hull- 
here  's  one  to  Lawrence — now  Bill,  I  give 
you  your  old  Captain,  Porter,"  and  so  it 
went.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  drink. 
I  saw  I  was  paying  right  and  left,  but  that  I 
did  n't  care  about.  I  was  rich  enough  to  stay 
ashore,  and  they  were  going  to  sea  again  for 
the  rhino.  By-and-by  I  forgot  what  was 
going  on,  till  suddenly  I  was  aware  the  bar 
was  quiet  and  some  one  shaking  me.  "  Sit 
up,  Billy,"  says  a  voice,  and  I  found  I  was  in 
a  chair  by  a  table  where  I  'd  been  when  I  lost 
myself.  The  sailors,  all  but  Josh,  were  gone, 
but  there  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  looking 
at  me  very  black,  was  Aaron  Truby  !  Ho\v 
he  came  there  I  did  n't  at  the  minute  know, 
but  there  he  was. 

"  William,"  says  he,  very  solemn — "  I  know 
you  come  to  see  my  daughter,  and  till  now 
I  Ve  been  willing  it  should  be  so  ;  but  to 
night,  right  here,  among  your  mates~-I  may 


22  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


say  your  betters — you  boasted  you  would 
marry  her.  Thank  God  I  Ve  seen  you  for 
what  you  are.  Don't  come  to  my  house 
again,"  says  he.  "  If  it  had  n't  been  for  Jim 
Downs  I  'd  never  have  rightly  known  you." 

"  Did  that  cowardly  sculpin  bring  you 
here?  "  I  says,  trying  to  stand  up,  and  lurch 
ing  on  to  the  bar.  "  If  he  did,  this  town  's  too 
small  for  the  two  of  us,  by " 

"  Silence  !  "  says  he,  very  stern — he  was  a 
deacon  in  the  church,  and  if  I  had  n't  been 
tipsy  I  'd  never  have  thought  to  curse  before 
him.  "  Keep  your  oaths  to  yourself,"  says 
he.  "  There  '11  be  room  enough  in  the  town 
for  you  if  it  's  Jim  you  think  crowds  you — 
he  's  going  to  fight  for  his  country  like  a  man 
while  you  stay  here  and  soak.  But  never 
cross  my  door-sill  again.  That 's  all." 

Out  he  went,  and  the  door  slammed  to.  I 
looked  at  old  Josh,  and  I  thought  he  seemed 
pretty  sober  for  a  lad  who  'd  stowed  so  much 
under  the  hatches,  and  he  looked  as  if  he  was 
a  bit  sorry  for  my  raking  from  Aaron.  Then 
I  felt  in  my  pockets.  Loose  change  there 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  23 


was,  copper  and  silver,  but  my  gold — nigh 
two  hundred  dollars — was  gone.  I  did  n't 
say  a  word  for  a  minute,  but  my  face  must 
have  spoke  loud  enough.  Then  says  I,  very 
deliberate  : 

"  Well,  when  I  sailed  along  with  Captain 
Porter  in  the  Essex,  there  's  many  a  night  my 
mates  and  I  have  set  the  grog  going  pretty 
free,  and  each  man  of  us  with  a  fist  full  of 
yellow  boys ;  but  the  only  hands  that  went 
into  our  pockets  were  our  own.  I  've  drunk 
with  a  good  many  seamen,"  says  I,  getting 
to  my  feet — I  was  getting  nigh  to  sober  now, 
— "  but  I  never  lost  a  farthing  before." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  says  Josh,  pretty- 
hot. 

"  Mean  ?  "  says  I.  "  I  mean  that  some 
swab  has  taken  about  two  hundred  dollars  in 
gold  coin  out  of  my  breeches  while  I  sat  here 
thinking  I  was  safe  among  American  seamen, 
by  the  Lord,"  says  I,  "  that 's  what  I  mean." 
He  got  up  and  took  a  tack  or  two  about  the 
room  ;  then  he  came  and  sat  down  next  to 
me  again. 


24  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"I  *m  sick  of  this  job,"  says  he,  "and  I  '11 
tell  you  how  it  was,  Bill.  You  see,  we 
wanted  you  bad  aboard  the  sloop,  and  I  said 
I'd  get  you,  seeing  there  's  no  press-gang, 
somehow  or  t'  other.  So  I  says  to  the  lads 
along  with  me, '  We  '11  get  him  drinking,  and 
get  away  with  that  chink  that 's  making  him 
hug  shore,  and  when  he  finds  he  's  strapped, 
he  '11  ship.  Once  out  to  sea,  we  '11  hand  the 
money  back  ' — sit  down  !  " 

I  'd  got  to  my  feet  very  savage. 

"  Sit  down  and  hold  your  tongue  till  I  'm 
through.  Why,  you  're  a  good  man,  mate," 
says  he,  "  but  you  're  too  unsteady  on  those 
pins  to  tackle  me  now ;  sit  down,  I  tell  ye. 
There,  that 's  right  and  sensible.  So  we  got 
you  tight,  and  I  took  your  money.  Here  it 
is,  every  shilling  of  it — take  it.  And  while 
you  snored  in  your  chair,  along  comes 
Downs,  gives  a  look  at  you,  and  goes  out 
pretty  quick.  Back  he  steers  with  the  old 
party  that  just  raked  you.  I  did  n't  know 
till  then  you  were  sparking  a  lass,  Bill,"  he 
says,  putting  his  hand  on  my  shoulder, "  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  25 


now  I  know  it,  I  'm  sick  of  the  job.  Give  us 
your  hand,"  says  he,  "  and  say  you  don't 
bear  a  grudge." 

I  suppose  I  was  turned  silly  by  the  drink, 
for  to  find  my  money  as  sudden  as  I  missed 
it,  and  a  staunch  seaman  alongside  pitying 
me  for  the  mess  I  was  in,  and  the  blast  old 
Aaron  gave  me,  together  with  the  chance  I 
stood  to  lose  my  girl,  made  me  whimper  like 
a  baby. 

"  No  grudge  at  all,  Josh,"  says  I  ;  "  and  in 
a  way  't  was  a  joke  I  earned.  But  joke  or  no 
joke,  there  's  no  laugh  in  it  with  old  Aaron 
and  Lindy.  He  's  seen  me  drunk,  and  now 
he  '11  believe  no  less  than  that  I  'm  a  sot. 
'T  is  the  end  of  the  game  for  me,  Josh,"  I 
says,  with  my  knuckle  in  my  eye  like  a  lad 
that 's  been  switched  at  school.  "  You  don't 
know  the  old  pirate ;  and  Lindy,  she  's  nigh 
as  strict." 

Old  Josh  cursed  a  bit  to  himself  like,  and 
stood  up  and  down  the  room.  By-and-byhe 
says:  "If  Jim  Downs  comes  back  from  this 
cruise  with  a  pocket  full,  and  finds  you  here 


26  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


about  run  out  of  money,  and  on  the  black 
list  too,  he  '11  weather  you  sure  enough,  Bill/' 
says  he. 

I  'd  thought  of  that  too. 

"  So,  lad,"  goes  on  the  old  man,  "  why  not 
ship  as  well  ?  "  And  then  after  a  minute,  as 
I  sat  thinking  :  "  There  's  another  girl,"  says 
he,  "  that  you  and  me  don't  talk  much  of, 
maybe,  but  we  love  her  all  the  same.  Her 
head  's  on  this  coin  here,  and  her  name  's 
Columbia,"  says  he,  very  solemn.  "  Why, 
boy,  there  's  more  than  money  to  be  got 
aboard  the  Wasp.  We  're  no  greedy  pri- 
vateersmen,  Bill,  and  when  you  Ve  been  a 
few  days  along  with  Captain  Blakely  you  'II 
begin  to  think  a  man  owes  his  country  just  a 
little.  Now  Blakely 's  not  born  this  side; 
but  he  's  been  adopted  by  us,  and  means  to 
show  us  the  family  can  be  proud  of  him. 
Here  are  you  and  I,  Bill,  born  here,  and 
raised — leastways  you,  for  I  'm  an  old  man 
that  remembers  Colony  days — raised  free. 
Why  ?  Because  some  men  thought  more  of 
liberty  and  the  land  that  bred  'em  than  of 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  27 


their  skins  or  property.  Then  Bill,"  he  says, 
"  that  girl  of  Truby's  will  think  more  of  you, 
and  old  Aaron  likely  will  forgive  you  when 
you  come  back,  if  you  do." 

"  There  it  is,  mate — if  I  do." 

"  Why,  if  you  don't,  Billy,"  says  he,  slap- 
.ping  me  on  my  shoulder,  "you  '11  go  down 
with  the  bravest  captain  that  breathes,  or 
get  a  burial  as  fine  as  if  you  wore  a  sword. 
You  '11  have  the  same  monument  Commo 
dore  Decatur  would  get,  and  the  whole  wide 
sea  for  a  churchyard.  Come,  Bill.  I  Ve 
treated  you  fair,  and  I  'm  telling  you  truth. 
It 's  the  man's  course  I  'm  setting  for  you, 
and  you  know  it." 

Yes,  I  knew  it.  Old  Josh  did  n't  use  to 
talk  very  much,  and  the  blast  he  gave  me 
almost  winded  him.  Part  what  he  said  of 
Jim's  chances  against  mine  with  Lindy,  part 
the  thing  he  spoke  of — my  owing  the  country 
a  duty, — and  part  because  I  was  maybe  a  lit 
tle  homesick  for  a  taste  of  the  salt  water 
again,  did  the  business  for  me.  He  saw  me 
weakening,  and  says  he  with  a  wink  : 


28  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  What  's  more,  Downs  wont  be  ashore 
again,"  says  he,  "  for  we  sail  the  day  after 
to-morrow,  and  you  '11  like  a  crack  at  him  for 
the  trick  the  lubber  has  done  you." 

"  That  settles  it,"  says  I.  "  I  '11  ship  for 
the  rest  of  the  war,  if  it 's  only  to  even  up  in 
the  fo'k'sle  with  the  hound.  Come  along — 
I  '11  go  aboard  with  you  to-night.  But,  mate," 
says  I,  "  I  've  no  kit  ready." 

"  Don't  you  worry,  my  lad,"  says  Josh. 
"  We  've  got  one  that  will  suit  you  to  a  but 
ton.  Why,  Lord  love  you,  Billy,"  says  he — 
and  the  old  sea  lawyer  laughed  suddenly  till 
he  nigh  choked, — "  we  meant  to  have  you, 
and  I  knew  I  'd  get  you,  so  all 's  ready  for 
you  aboard.  Foul  did  n't  win,  but  fair  does 
the  trick,  eh,  mate  ?  " 

Well,  I  laughed  too.  After  all,  the  old  lad 
had  been  square  and  true.  "  I  wont  back 
water,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  you  'd  better,"  says  he,  joking,  "  for 
it 's  a  steadier  horse  in  the  end  to  back  than 
rum."  And  we  both  went  out  of  the  tavern 
and  along  down  to  the  wharf.  A  boat  lay 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  29 


there,  and  three  men — one  of  'em  Downs — 
asleep  in  her.  "  Wake  up,  lads  !  "  calls  Josh  ; 
and  they  sat  up  rubbing  their  eyes. 

"  Got  him,  hay,"  says  one,  with  a  laugh. 
"  He  came  of  his  own  free  will,"  says  Josh, 
dryly,  as  we  climbed  down  and  aboard. 

"  Hobson's  choice,  maybe,"  says  Jim  to  me, 
as  I  took  an  oar.  I  gave  him  a  look.  "  I  came 
because  I  wanted  to  see  you  about  some 
business,  matey,"  says  I,  softly.  "  Some 
thing  you  and  me  will  settle  in  the  fo'k'sle," 
says  I.  He  looked  a  little  down  at  this, 
but  was  going  to  give  me  a  shot  back,  when 
Josh,  who  was  coxswain,  sings  out,  "  Toss, 
all !  No  more  jawing,  you  sneaking  little 
counter-jumper.  Bill,  shut  your  mouth. 
Give  way  ! 

When  we  were  a  few  hundred  feet  from 
the  ship  Josh  says  softly  to  me :  "  Look  at 
her,"  says  he  ;  "  there  's  the  best  ship  under 
frigate  class  that  sails  the  seas."  I  had 
looked  at  her  often  before,  and  I  turned 
and  looked  as  he  spoke.  She  was  a  beauty, 
— there  could  n't  be  two  words  about  that. 


30  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


She  was  a  sloop-of-war,  what  they  call,  too, 
a  corvette.  Three  masts  she  had,  and  pretty 
spars  they  were.  She  was  deep  in  the  waist 
like  ships  of  her  class,  and  was  pierced  for 
eleven  guns  to  the  broadside.  A  big  brig  of 
war  might  have  been  her  match,  but 't  would 
have  had  to  be  a  big  one.  As  she  lay  in  the 
moonlight  she  looked  nigh  the  size  of  my 
old  ship  the  Essex  frigate,  but  the  darkness 
made  her  look  larger  than  she  was,  for  she 
was  not  in  the  frigate  class  nor  near  it.  As 
we  came  alongside  several  seamen  with  a  lan 
tern  among  'em  peered  over  at  us.  Another 
man  joined  them.  I  saw  he  was  in  officer's 
uniform,  and  as  we  got  aboard  and  Josh 
saluted  and  called  him  Captain,  I  knew  't  was 
Captain  Blakely  himself. 

"  So  you  got  him,"  I  heard  him  say,  as  the 
old  man  stepped  aft  a  rod  or  two  to  report. 
"Aye,  aye,  sir,"  says  Josh,  "but  he  did  n't 
need  much  urging.  Says  he  's  wanting  a  job 
and  glad  to  sign."  This  was  a  lie,  but  I 
guess  the  old  lad  wanted  to  make  it  easier 
all  round  for  me.  The  Captain  came  up  to 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  31 


me  as  I  stood  waiting  for  orders,  and  looked 
me  up  and  down.  "  You  're  the  man  I 
wanted,"  says  he,  after  a  minute.  "  What  's 
your  age  ?  " 

"  Twenty-five,  sir." 

"  Good.  We  've  work  ahead  for  young 
men"  (he  was  only  thirty-four  himself). 
"  Born  in  Portsmouth  ?  " 

"  Biddeford,  sir." 

"  It  's  just  as  good,"  says  he ;  "  my  men 
are  all  Yankees,  and  you  '11  be  in  good  com 
pany."  He  turned  on  his  heel  and  went 
aft.  Josh  followed  him.  I  heard  them  laugh 
and  I  guess  't  was  at  my  cost,  but  now  I  'd 
made  my  mind  up  to  ship  I  did  n't  care,  and 
truth  to  tell  it  pleased  me  to  find  they  'd 
been  at  such  pains  to  get  me.  I  was  given 
a  hammock  and  turned  in  at  once. 

Next  day  I  kept  aboard  ship.  I  sent  a 
letter  to  my  folks  in  Biddeford,  telling  them 
I  'd  gone  again  to  sea.  I  knew  't  would  n't 
trouble  them.  I  'd  always  been  a  rover — 
not  a  black  sheep,  mind  you,  but  one  who  'd 
jump  a  fence  whether  the  bell-wether  showed 


32  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


the  way  or  not.  I  sent  them  part  of  my 
money,  and  some  I  gave  to  an  old  shipmate, 
Caleb  Whaley,  who  was  going  ashore,  to 
buy  a  little  gold  charm  I  told  him  of.  He  was 
to  take  it,  with  a  few  lines,  to  Lindy  Truby. 
Maybe  she  could  n't  read  the  letter,  my  fist 
was  never  proper  squared  for  writing,  but  she 
would  know  what  the  brooch  meant.  When 
Caleb  came  aboard  that  night  and  told  me 
how  she  looked  when  she  got  it  and  the  news 
of  me  shipping  aboard  the  Wasp,  I  was  glad 
I  'd  stayed  on  the  sloop.  She  did  n't  take 
on  as  I  thought  she  might,  and,  to  tell  the 
truth,  hoped  she  would.  She  said  she  guessed 
it  was  a  good  thing  for  me.  And  then,  by 
Caleb's  account,  she  was  very  sociable  with 
him.  He  could  n't  say  enough  about  her, 
which  is  to  say  he  said  too  blasted  much, 
and  I  was  glad  I  'd  stayed  aboard.  Says  I 
to  me : 

"  Well,  there  's  always  a  gain  somewhere. 
Here  's  Captain  Blakely  has  a  likely  seaman 
through  this  mess  you  've  made,  Bill,  and  a 
cabin-boy  too,  for  Downs  is  in  the  same 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  33 


snarl.  Cabin-boy ! "  says  I,  chuckling  to 
myself,  for  I  thought  the  notion  smart ; 
"  that  's  what  Jim  's  good  for,  and  naught 
besides."  I  met  him  a  few  minutes  later  on 
the  deck,  rigged  out  very  fine  in  his  sea  togs, 
proud  as  a  boy  in  his  first  boots.  He  did  n't 
look  happy  as  I  came  up  to  him,  but  he 
leaned  up  against  the  bulwarks  and  tried  to 
face  me  out. 

"  Jim,"  says  I,  "  I  was  going  to  settle  a 
little  score  with  you  to-day  that  might  have 
spoiled  your  good  looks,"  says  I,  "  but  I  've 
thought  better  of  it.  You  tried  to  ruin  my 
chance  with  Lindy  !  Well,  I  never  had  any, 
I  guess — anyhow,  if  I  had,  I  'm  glad  it  's 
gone.  If  I  lived  to  grow  gray  in  Portsmouth 
town,  she  might  die  an  old  maid  now  before 
I  'd  help  her  out.  Thank  you,  Jim,"  says  I, 
"  you  Ve  done  me  a  good  turn  where  you 
meant  a  foul.  But  hark  ye,  mate,  don't  run 
across  my  bows  again,"  I  says,  "  for  I  might 
forget  you  are  five  foot  five  and  I  six  foot," 
and  I  turned  and  left  him  very  quiet.  He 
looked  pretty  thoughtful  all  that  day.  I 


34  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


guess  he  began  to  suspicion  that  Lindy  liked 
shop-clerks  and  choir-singing  better  than 
sailors,  and  kind  of  longed  to  be  ashore  and 
tuning  up  in  the  old  meeting-house.  But 
't  was  too  late  now,  and  early  morning  of 
May  ist  heard  the  boatswain's  whistle  piping 
lively  and  saw  us  stand  out  to  sea. 

A  crowd  watched  us  go.  There  were 
fathers  and  mothers  and  sweethearts,  all  to 
see  us  sail.  I  did  n't  see  Lindy,  and  I  told 
myself  I  did  n't  care.  Yet  I  felt  a  little  as 
if  I  'd  like  to  have  had  some  claim  to  a  foot 
of  the  white  bunting  that  kept  going  up  to 
women's  faces  or  flapping  from  their  hands. 
'T  was  a  sad  sight  too,  but  't  is  Jack's  life, 
and  after  all,  would  he  change  it  ?  Not 
while  the  sight  's  good,  and  the  muscles 
stringy  and  hard,  and  foothold  steady,  and 
the  sea  winds  blow. 


CHAPTER  II. 

HOW   WE   BORE  AWAY   TO   THE   CHOPS   OF 
THE   BRITISH   CHANNEL. 

V\7E  got  safe  away  to  sea,  and  that  might 
ha'  been  a  trick  none  too  easy.  There 
was  a  big  squadron  cruising  along  the  coast, 
shutting  up  in  port  some  of  our  best  ships. 
But  Captain  Blakely  had  made  up  his  mind 
to  get  to  sea  and  to  sea  we  got.  I  daresay  a 
74-gun  ship  might  have  blocked  him,  though 
he  'd  ha'  sailed  all  around  her  in  a  light 
breeze,  but  I  don't  think  he  'd  have  stopped 
for  any  single  frigate.  He  was  out  to  fight. 
To  cut  up  British  shipping  all  he  could  of 
course,  but  to  fight  first,  last,  and  all  the 
time. 

There  was  something  about  the  course  he 
laid  and  the  cruising  ground  he  made  straight 
for,  that  told  us  men  we  had  work  cut  out. 
35 


36  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


Just  as  a  bull  terrier  goes  straight  to  a  leg  or 
the  throat,  so  the  Wasp  ran  straight  for  the 
Chops  of  the  Channel.  No  cruising  in  South 
ern  Seas.  No  coasting, nor  waiting  in  our  own 
waters  for  the  Englishmen  to  come  and  find 
us.  As  fast  as  sails  and  a  true  course  could 
make  it  we  went  to  the  very  navy-yard  of 
Great  Britain,  to  the  narrow  seas,  where  the 
merchantmen  were  thick  and  men-o'-war  ran 
plenty. 

I  did  n't  think  he  'd  lay  the  course  he  did, 
but  Josh,  who  was  very  chummy  with  me, 
says: 

"  Bill,"  says  he,  "  don't  you  mistake  me. 
He  carries  a  chip  on  his  shoulder,  and  he  's 
going  to  give  John  a  dare  in  John's  own 
water.  Cruise  awhile  in  the  South  Seas  do 
you  say,  man  ?  Why,  there  's  more  prizes, 
anyway  better,  where  we  're  going.  Not 
dirty,  stinking  whalers,  lad,  but  good,  fat 
Indiamen,  and  then,  as  I  've  said  before, 
there  's  no  danger  of  our  guns  a-rusting. 
Who  's  that  singing  below  ?  " 

I  knew  the   voice, — 't  was  Jim   Downs. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  37 


The  poor  beggar  had  been  sick  as  a  land-cat 
for  the  first  two  or  three  days'  run.  If  he  'd 
had  a  heart  in  him,  or  a  soul  he  'd  ha' 
parted  with  it  those  few  days.  Now  he  was 
better,  and  stirring  round  a  bit.  He  wa'n't 
fit  for  a  seaman,  but  they  used  him  as  a  kind 
of  assistant  purser's  clerk,  for  he  was  handy 
with  his  pen.  'T  was  he  singing,  very  mourn 
ful  and  yet  sweet  too,  for  he  had  a  good 
voice,  do  him  that  justice.  He  sat  upon  a 
chest  not  far  from  the  fo'k'sle  hatch.  It  was 
something  about  the  "  sweet  month  of  May  " 
he  was  singing,  and  one  line  ran, 

"  Where  the  cows  sweetly  lowing  in  a  dewy  morning,"1 

There  was  plenty  more  of  it,  all  praising 
landsman's  life.  He  sang  high  up  and  very 
sweet,  and  there  were  three  or  four  lads, 
marines,  country  boys  I  reckon,  sitting  round 
him  pretty  solemn.  They  were  young  and 
new  to  the  trade,  and  had  sweethearts  to 
miss  'em,  maybe.  /  would  n't  have  both- 

1  I  find  this  song  printed  in  the  log  of  a  privateer  of  the 
War  of  Independence.  H.  L. 


38  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


ered  him,  but  it  riled  Josh  to  see  him  sitting 
there  singing,  and  now  and  again  piping  his 
eye. 

"  Belay  there ! "  he  shouted  down  the  hatch. 
"  Stow  that  song,  you,  Downs  "  (he  was  al 
ways  hard  on  Jim  since  the  trick  on  me). 
"  What  a  hell  of  a  song  to  sing  aboard  a 
man-o'-war!  You  won't  hear  the  cows 
'  sweetly  lowing '  again,  lad  —  not  soon. 
You  're  going  to  see  a  bull,  my  boy,  and  if 
you  like  his  voice,  't  is  more  than  I  guess 
for,"  says  Josh,  who  never  lost  a  chance  at  a 
joke.  "  Now,  then,  here  's  a  song  for  you 
boys,  and  I  '11  sing  it  myself.  It  's  a  song 
for  lads  with  red  blood  in  their  veins  "  ;  and 
Josh,  in  a  voice  that  sounded  like  the  hoist 
ing  of  the  mainsail,  sang  a  song  I  afterwards 
learned  myself.  It  had  a  good  swing  to  it, 
and  the  words  pleased  us  all.  The  marines 
were  cheered  up  by  it,  and  even  Jim  Downs 
sat  by  to  listen.  There  was  a  crowd  about 
the  old  man  before  he  finished  with  it.  The 
words  were  gloomy  enough,  but  they  had 
the  smell  of  salt  water  and  tarry  ropes  about 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  39 


'em  and  a  breeze  with  'em  that  made  it  easy 
for  a  seafaring  man  to  understand ;  then 
there  was  a  kind  of  daredevilry  about  the 
song  that  caught  the  youngsters: 

"  But  as  Providence  would  have  it  it  was  not  quite  so  bad, 
But  first  we  lost  our  mizzen-mast  and  then  went  off  our 

flag, 

And  next  we  lost  our  main-mast,  one  of  our  guns  also, 
With  five  men  drowned  then,  in  the  Bay  of  Biscay  O  ! " 

The  men,  such  as  knew  it,  would  come  in 
strong  on  the  last  line,  and  the  "  five  men 
drowned  then "  pleased  the  green  ones. 
They  began  to  think  because  they  were 
aboard  ship,  harking  to  songs  about  drown 
ing  and  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  that  they 
were  sharing  some  themselves.  Well,  God 
knows  they  got  their  full  ration,  and  it  came 
quick  and  rather  sudden. 

Josh  Sewall  was  a  good  deal  of  a  man 
aboard  the  Wasp — he  was  only  an  ordinary 
seaman,  but  he  was  an  old,  tried  hand,  a 
great  favorite  with  the  quarter-deck,  and  his 
experience,  his  service  in  three  wars — the 
Independence,  the  one  against  Tripoli,  and 


40  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


this — made  him  to  be  looked  up  to  in  the 
fo'k'sle.  All  this  did  n't  set  him  up  too  high 
and  keep  him  from  being  good  shipmate  to 
the  youngest  lad  aboard.  He  'd  seen  the 
Constitution  pound  the  Guerricre  into  match 
wood,  and  whip  the  Java  too,  but  he  was 
no  hand  to  brag.  Some  of  the  raw  hands 
would  talk  by  the  fathom  of  Perry  and  De- 
catur  and  Bainbridge  and  Hull,  and  what 
they  'd  done,  and  I  'd  say  a  word  or  two 
myself  for  Captain  Porter,  but  Josh  never 
took  a  hand  in  the  game.  The  talk  of  our 
making  the  sea  too  hot  for  John  Bull  with 
our  little  navy,  of  how  a  Yankee  sloop  could 
stand  off  a  32,  yes,  or  a  44  frigate,  made  the 
old  man  laugh. 

"  Wind,"  says  he,  "  wind.  "  If  you  lads  '11 
sit  just  astern  the  mainsail  you  '11  fill  the  old 
sheet  out  and  give  us  a  knot  or  two  to  the 
better,"  says  he.  He  knew,  at  sea,  that  what 
talked  was  gunning  and  good  seamanship 
and,  above  all,  a  well  disciplined  crew. 

"  Speak  of  Hull  and  Bainbridge  and  the 
others,"  says  he,  suddenly,  one  day,  when  a 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


lot  of  us  off  duty  were  paying  out  talk,  "  all 
you  please,  but  there  's  never  a  lad  of  you 
to  say  a  word  for  Captain  Lawrence,  as 
brave  a  man  as  ever  walked  the  quarter 
deck." 

No  one  had  said  anything  of  him,  and 
that  was  true.  The  country  was  still  sore 
over  the  Shannon  taking  the  Chesapeake  in 
single  action  off  Boston  Harbor. 

"  As  good  a  man  was  he,"  says  Josh  again, 
"  as  Bainbridge  or  Decatur,  but  what  ruined 
him  ?  A  bad  crew — a  lot  of  raw  lubbers  and 
foreign  swabs."  (Josh  was  veering  for  a  ser 
mon  to  the  new  men,  I  saw  that.)  "  A  green 
hand  may  be  brave,  but  he  's  not  worth  his 
grog  if  he  don't  know  his  trade.  Hark  to 
that,  you  boys  there — you,  Jim  Downs,  I 
mean  you  too." 

"  I  aint  a  seaman,"  says  Jim,  very  cool ; 
"  I  'm  assistant  purser's  clerk." 

"  Lord  bless  you,"  says  old  Josh,  rolling 
his  quid  in  his  mouth,  "  I  nor  any  man 
aboard  this  ship  '11  accuse  you  of  being  a 
seaman,  but  if  you  think,"  and  here  he  be- 


42  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


gan  to  warm  up,  "you  '11  be  let  off  your 
trick  at  fighting,  if  any  one  comes  aboard  of 
us,  you  've  missed  your  guess,  my  bully," 
says  he.  "  One  thing  about  our  navy,  that  *s 
not  out  of  its  baby  clothes  yet,  is  that  every 
man  fights  if  he  has  to.  Why,  the  only  man 
on  the  quarter-deck  when  Captain  Broke 
came  aboard  the  Chesapeake  was  who  ?  Who 
do  you  think,  you  purser's  clerk?  Why, 
the  chaplain,  by  thunder ! — the  parson,  full 
of  fight,  and  lets  go  his  pistol  at  the  Brit 
isher,  and  gets  his  arm  sliced  half  off  for  it ! 
No,  don't  you  fret  yourself,  mate — you  '11 
learn  to  finger  a  cutlass  as  well  as  a  pen 
aboard  this  ship ;  and  you  other  boys,  re 
member  what  I  say,  a  green  hand  who  wont 
learn  is  only  fit  for  ballast,  and  not  for  that 
half  the  time." 

Josh  got  up  and  walked  away.  He  'd  said 
all  he  had  to,  given  us  each  a  shot,  and  he 
had  n't  time  for  yarn-spinning  that  did  n't 
carry  a  moral  along.  I  liked  what  he  said 
of  every  man  doing  his  trick  when  the  time 
came,  but  as  for  brag,  it 's  my  notion  that  a 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  43 


little  aint  so  bad.  Of  course  "  Holdfast 's  " 
the  better  dog,  but  let  the  men  crack  'em- 
selves  up  now  and  again.  What  has  gone  to 
make  the  British  the  sea-dogs  all  know  them 
for?  Bull-dog  grit?  Pluck,  seamanship? 
Yes,  of  course,  and  one  thing  else — the 
steady  belief  they  have  that  they  never  get 
licked.  It  's  always  heavier  metal  or  bloody 
bad  luck  does  the  trick,  or  maybe  it  's  be 
cause  the  other  ship  is  "  manned  half  by 
English  sailors,"  or  some  such  yarn.  Yarn 
they  don't  think  it,  not  for  a  minute,  't  is 
gospel  to  them.  The  thing  that 's  played 
the  devil  in  their  service,  when  fighting  us, 
is  that  their  officers  swallow  the  same  windy 
duff  they  feed  the  men.  Officers  should 
know  better.  They  've  no  right  to  blink 
facts  to  salve  their  pride.  Let  the  Jack  Tars 
believe  they  can't  be  whipped  and  never 
have  been,  fairly ;  it  '11  help  'em,  it  wont 
hurt  'em  anyhow,  and  it  pleases  the  young 
ones.  But  let  the  officers  find  out  and  profit 
by  what 's  wrong  when  they  strike  a  foul 
streak  of  fortune — they  '11  do  better  next 


44  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


time.  As  for  the  crew,  why,  let  Brag  bark  a 
little,  now  and  again,  't  will  heart  up  old 
Holdfast. 

Now  Josh,  when  I  come  to  think,  had  no 
right  to  preach.  I  've  heard  the  story  told 
that  the  day  Hull  took  the  Guerricre,  Josh 
rowed  bow  in  the  first  boat  went  off  to  the 
prize.  There  were  three  or  four  American 
merchant  captains,  prisoners  aboard  the  Eng 
lishman.  They  'd  come  on  deck  when  the 
fight  was  over  and  one  sees  Josh  whom  he  'd 
known  in  old  times. 

"  Well,  Josh,"  he  calls  out,  "  what  have 
you  folks  been  doing  with  us?"  "Doing 
with  you  !  "  says  the  old  man,  "  been  playing 
with  you — but  if  it  had  n't  ha'  been  the  Sab 
bath  we  'd  ha'  shown  you  what  fighting  was" 
says  he. 

Now  according  to  my  lights  that 's  pretty 
tall  brag,  yet  it  never  kept  old  Josh  from  be 
ing  as  brave  a  man  as  ever  I  saw  buckle  on 
a  cutlass,  bar  one  or  two,  and  one  is  the  man 
I  must  speak  of  now,  Captain  Johnston 
Blakely. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  45 


He  was  not  a  large  man,  but  he  had  a  fig 
ure  that,  in  a  way  of  speaking,  was  cleared 
for  action  all  the  time.  Every  muscle  was 
taut,  every  pound  of  flesh  had  its  use,  and 
he  carried  nothing  in  the  way  of  cargo.  He 
was  the  soul  of  his  ship — not  of  his  ship's 
crew — I  don't  mean  that  here,  though  he 
was  ;  but  if  ever  a  wooden  ship  had  a  soul, 
and  I  Ve  seen  'em  look  like  living  things, 
then  the  soul  of  the  trimmest,  staunchest, 
gamest  sloop-o'-war  that  ever  swam  the 
pond,  was  Johnston  Blakely.  A  polite 
man  to  every  one  was  he.  If  you  had  done 
your  duty,  he  was  as  civil  to  you,  be  you 
common  seaman,  as  though  you  lived  in  the 
ward  room.  He  was  one  of  the  breed  of 
fighters  who  'd  got  their  schooling  in  Tripoli 
with  Decatur  and  Somers  and  Bainbridge 
and  Hull.  He  was  born  in  North  Ireland, 
but  was  brought  a  baby  to  the  States,  and 
now  hailed  from  North  Carolina. 

He  had  a  crew  of  young  men  like  himself. 
The  average  age  of  the  entire  ship's  company 
could  n't  have  been  more  than  twenty-three 


46  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


years — green  and  raw  a  great  part  of  them, 
but  of  good  stuff  that  seasoned  soon.  I  '11 
never  forget  the  first  week  at  sea.  Of  all 
remarkable  sights  on  this  cruise, — and  there 
were  more  than  one, — what  struck  me  as  the 
strangest  was  to  see  scores  of  the  crew  sick 
as  landsmen,  leaning  over  the  bulwarks  or 
lying  pale  and  quiet  on  the  fo'k'sle  and  in 
their  hammocks.1  I  don't  blame  'em,  not  I. 
Sick  as  a  cat  I  was  the  first  time  I  put  to  sea 
in  the  old  coaster  Hannah  Fairbanks,  running 
'twixt  Biddeford  and  Boston  town.  All 
these  youngsters  were  trained  to  handle 
ropes  and  lay  aloft  as  brisk  as  ever  an  old 
sea-dog,  but  they  were  harbor-trained. 
When  we  got  out  to  sea  the  roll  and  pitch 
caught  them  hard  between  decks,  and,  as  I 
said,  we  had  a  floating  hospital  for  about  a 
week. 

But  when  that  was  past  the  good  blood  in 
the  boys  showed  forward.     How  they  ate ! 

1  I  find  corroboration  of  this  statement  in  volume  vii. 
of  Niles's  Register,  in  one  of  the  items  about  the  Wasp. 

H.  L. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  47 


'T  was  worth  a  shake-up,  to  gain  the  twist 
they  had.  And  soon  't  was  pretty  to  see 
them  get  aloft  and  out  upon  the  yards,  lively 
as  if  they  'd  followed  the  sea  from  the  cradle ! 
'T  is  in  the  Yankee  to  be  a  good  seaman. 
The  long,  long  sail  in  the  top-heavy  tubs  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago  put  it  into 
the  blood  of  their  forefathers — the  salt  air  and 
the  sea  breeze  got  into  the  blood  and  stayed 
there.  So  what  with  the  knack  in  the  blood, 
stout  hearts,  good  discipline,  and  top-rate 
officers  from  captain  to  boatswain's  mate, 
the  Wasp's  crew,  by  the  time  we  were  within 
a  few  days'  run  of  the  Channel,  was  as  good 
a  lot  of  seamen  as  I  'd  ask  to  see.  Of  course 
many  of  them  had  seen  no  fighting  as  yet, 
but  that  's  not  half  the  importance  some 
reckon  it. 

June  2d  we  sighted  a  sail,  for  which  we 
at  once  made  chase.  'T  was  pretty  to  see  the 
excitement  among  the  new  lads,  and  good 
for  the  heart  to  know  they  were  looking  for 
fight  more  than  prize-money.  Even  I  got  a 
spice  of  the  feeling  that  stirred  them.  I  '11 


48  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


say  honest,  for  lying  was  a  hitch  I  never 
learned,  that  a  prize  or  two  or  three  before 
long  bowls,  with  grape  and  cutlass  to  wind 
up  with,  was  more  to  my  taste.  But  't  was 
pleasant  to  see  those  boys  get  aloft  and 
shake  out  the  canvas,  and  stand  about  the 
deck  and  pump  the  old  hands.  'T  was  : 

"What  d'ye  make  her  out,  Josh?"  and, 
"Is  she  a  privateer  or  a  brig-o'-war ?  "  and, 
"Will  we  overhaul  her,  do  you  think?"  and, 
"  Blast  her  for  a  coward  !  see  her  run  !  "  and 
all  that.  It  pleased  Josh  and  the  other  older 
seamen  to  see  their  spirit,  and  they  had 
more  than  all  the  questions  they  could  an 
swer  put  to  'em.  I  came  in  for  a  share,  for 
tho'  I  'd  seen  but  little  fighting,  I  counted 
for  something  as  a  man  who  'd  helped  take 
many  a  prize  along  with  the  Essex  and  Cap 
tain  Porter.  Jim  Downs  got  a  pinch  of  the 
spirit  astir  himself. 

"  Dassent  wait  for  us,  Josh,"  says  he,  edg 
ing  up  to  the  old  man  who  'd  rarely  a  decent 
word  for  him.  "Is  she  a  man-o'-war,  d'ye 
think?" 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  49 


"  Well,"  says  the  old  lad,  without  looking 
at  him,  "  I  guess  she  's  a  ship  o'  the  line,  the 
Poictiers,  maybe,  or  a  whole  fleet  of  war 
ships,  including  gunboats  and  bomb-ketch 
es,"  says  he.  "  Why,  you  poor  ignorant 
tune-singing  deputy-purser's  clerk,"  says  he, 
looking  round  sudden,  and  letting  go  a  sluice 
from  his  quid  over  the  rail,  "  John  does  n't 
keep  men-o'-war  for  races  of  this  kind,"  says 
he ;  "  they  fight  with  their  guns,  not  with 
their  heels.  Why,  if  that  sail  yonder  carried 
the  king's  commission,  she  :d  be  running 
down  here  to  flap  it  in  our  eyes  instead  of 
crowding  all  sail  to  get  away  like  the  poor 
scared  merchant  brig  she  is." 

"  So  she  is,"  says  one  of  the  new  hands. 
"  You  never  saw  lines  like  that  in  a  man-o'- 
war,"  says  another  ;  and  Josh  laughs  and 
turns  to  go  aft.  The  Captain  and  Lieutenant 
Tillinghast,  a  fine  seamanly  officer,  stood 
talking  together  about  midship,  and  eying 
the  chase  through  their  glasses.  They  beck 
oned  Josh,  and  he  up  to  them  and  salutes. 
I  guess  they  were  questioning  him  about  the 

4 


50  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


excitement  forward,  and  that  the  old  man 
had  his  joke  about  the  /4-gun  ship  over 
again,  for  they  both  laughed  hearty.  Then 
the  Captain  took  a  few  steps  towards  a 
crowd  of  us  standing  and  lying  just  abaft 
the  fo'k'sle  hatch.  He  did  n't  come  very 
close,  for  he  did  n't  want  us  jumping  up  and 
saluting,  and  he  had  n't  anything  to  say 
either.  But  he  felt  good,  for  he  was  smiling, 
I  saw  that.  He  had  a  smile  that  drew  a 
smile.  Let  him  look  that  way  at  any  old 
sour  face  in  the  crew,  and  't  was  ten  to  one 
the  smile  came  back  at  him.  There  was 
something  not  like  other  men  about  Captain 
Blakely.  I  always  had  a  kind  of  feeling 
about  him  that — how  shall  I  say  it  ?  Well, 
most  men  I  can  see  in  my  mind  growing  old 
and  leathery-faced  and  wrinkled,  but  he 
did  n't  seem  to  me  to  be  a  man  for  whom 
the  Lord  had  an  old  age  assigned,  but  one 
who  had  his  work  cut  out,  and  that  done 
with,  good-by.  But  this  is,  likely,  all  my 
fancy. 

We  overhauled  the  brig,  for  brig  she  was, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  5 1 


and  sent  a  boat's  crew  aboard  her.  Tim 
Stevens  was  coxswain,  and  I  rowed  stroke — 
a  fine  seaman  was  Tim,  and  my  good  friend. 
When  we  came  alongside,  there  stood  the 
merchant  captain  by  the  taffrail.  Very  sour 
he  looked,  and  small  wonder,  for  in  an  hour 
or  two  he  knew  the  Neptune,  which  was  the 
name  of  the  brig,  would  be  sunk  or  burnt. 
But  as  we  climbed  aboard,  we  had  no  eyes 
for  the  captain.  'Twas  a  girl  that  stood 
near  him  we  looked  at. 

If  the  captain's  face  was  sour,  what  shall 
I  say  of  hers  ?  But  steady  all — 't  was  not 
sour — that  it  could  never  be,  but  it  was 
angry,  and  bitter  angry  at  that.  There  's  a 
few,  a  very  few  women  have  faces  that  look 
well  in  a  rage.  She  was  one.  "  If  she  's  so 
pretty,  mad,"  says  Tim  to  me,"  "  what  '11  she 
be,  smiling,  Bill  ?  "  And  I  guess  the  point 
was  a  good  one. 

While  our  lads  busied  themselves  about 
the  prize  I  stood  at  the  wheel  and  the  Lieu 
tenant  near  me  ;  he  knew  a  pretty  face  him 
self,  and  I  got  a  good  look  at  the  lass.  She 


52  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


might  have  been  eighteen,  about,  and  quite 
tall  and  well  put  up  and  trim.  She  had  eyes 
of  light  brown  that  turned  darker  when  she 
looked  at  you.  Her  cheeks  were  red,  and 
brown  too  from  the  sea-wind  and  the  sun, 
and  her  hair  that  reddish  brown  with  a  yet 
redder  streak  in  it,  that  takes  the  sun  free, 
and  has  a  shine  of  polished  copper  about  it. 

She  saw  me  looking  at  her  and  turned 
about  and  stood  with  her  back  towards  me. 
By  and  by  she  turned  a  bit  just  to  see  if  I 
was  looking  her  way  still,  and  when  she 
found  't  was  so,  she  looked  prettier  than  ever. 
Her  jaw  was  square,  and  her  nose  what  might 
be  called  turned  up,  just  a  thought,  and  she 
had  a  way  of  showing  her  teeth,  white  be 
tween  the  red  of  her  lips,  that  made  me  think 
of  a  terrier.  I  held  my  hand  to  her  as  she 
climbed  down  to  the  cutter,  but  she  never 
saw  it,  or  acted  so.  Josh  Sewall  helped  her 
down  and  she  crouched  in  the  stern  of  the 
boat  by  the  side  of  the  brig's  captain.  All 
this  time  she  had  n't  said  a  word. 

Now  the  Lieutenant  saw,  like  the  rest  of 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  53 


us,  what  a  pretty  bit  of  a  craft  she  was,  and 
several  times  he  spoke  to  her — some  little 
thing  or  other — but  not  a  word  would  she 
give  him.  By  and  by,  as  the  sea  was  com 
ing  now  and  again  over  the  gunwale,  he 
leaned  over  to  pull  a  bit  of  tarpaulin  across 
her  knees.  She  jumped  away  from  him  so 
brisk  she  nigh  upset  the  boat.  The  Lieutenant 
drew  back  looking  kind  of  offended,  and  no 
wonder,  and  the  brig  captain,  who  did  n't 
know  what  we  Yankees  were  going  to  do 
with  him,  and  did  n't  want  to  get  our  tem 
pers  going,  says  to  her  very  short : 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Nancy,  don't  be  a  fool, 
I  tell  ye."  Well,  't  was  as  good  as  a  play. 
She  turned  on  him  and  spoke  for  the  first 
time  in  my  hearing : 

"  Don't  you  dare  speak  to  me  that  way, 
you  coward,"  she  says,  "  don't  you  dare. 
Speak  to  men  so,  if  you  want  to,  but  not  to 
me.  But  you  don't  dare  to  talk  so  to  men, 
not  even  Yankees.  I  'd  have  sunk  the  boat 
load  of  'em  this  day  if  you  'd  let  me  touch 
off  the  carronade." 


54  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  For  God's  sake  hold  your  tongue,  you 
shrew,"  calls  the  brig  captain,  blue  by  now, 
and  took  hold  of  her,  as  though  to  make  her 
keep  still.  I  was  pulling  stroke,  as  I  said 
before.  I  pulled  with  my  right  hand  and 
dropped  my  left  on  the  beggar's  shoulder  as 
he  leaned  over  towards  the  girl. 

"  Drop  it,"  says  I,  "  let  her  talk,  you  shut 
up."  Then  I  remembered  it  was  the  Lieu 
tenant's  business  to  chip  in  if  any  one's.  "I 
beg  pardon,  sir,"  says  I,  "  but  I  forgot  at 
the  minute." 

"  That  's  all  right,  Bill,"  says  he,  cheerily, 
"  I  was  going  to  do  the  very  same.  Never 
mind  what  the  young  lady  says,  captain," 
says  he,  "  't  is  a  woman's  privilege,"  and  he 
bowed  and  smiled  at  the  girl.  She  never 
looked  at  him,  but  she  gave  me  a  glance  that 
made  me  wonder  what  I  'd  said  to  deserve 
it.  Sometimes  I  used  to  think  she  was  fre 
quent  in  a  temper  because  she  knew  she 
looked  well  that  way.  When  we  got  to  the 
ship  up  she  goes  aboard,  touching  no  one's 
hand,  spry  as  a  kitten. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  55 


"Who's  the  young  lady?"  says  Captain 
Blakely,  after  he  had  got  the  Lieutenant's  re 
port  and  had  said  a  few  words  to  the  brig's 
captain. 

"  She  's  Nancy  Barker  of  Plymouth,  your 
honor,"  says  the  Englishman,  "  the  daugh 
ter  of  an  old  shipmate  of  mine.  The  two 
were  coming  round  from  Yarmouth  in  the 
Petrel,  a  privateer  in  which  John  Barker  had 
a  share,  sir,  to  Plymouth.  John  's  dead  this 
week  or  more,  and  the  rest  of  the  lads  aboard 
the  Petrelhovo.  me  to  and  sent  Nancy  aboard, 
and  then  bore  away  God  knows  where.  They 
left  the  lass  on  my  hands  and  I  Ve  been  look 
ing  for  the  chance  to  put  her  aboard  a  home- 
bound  ship.  The  rest  your  honor  knows," 
says  he. 

All  this  time  Nancy,  for  as  the  brig  cap 
tain  says,  'twas  her  name,  was  looking  all 
around  very  cool  and  staring  at  Captain 
Blakely  and  the  other  officers  about  as  if 
she  'd  like  to  know  what  they  were  doing 
aboard  the  Wasp.  When  the  English  skip 
per  quit  talking,  of  a  sudden  she  speaks  up. 


56  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"Yes,  I  'm  Nancy  Barker,"  says  she, 
"  Gunner  Nancy,  they  called  me  on  the 
Petrel  before  I  went  aboard  the  brig  yon 
der  ;  for  I  can  shoot  a  gun  and  aim  it  too," 
says  she,  "  as  your  boat  would  have  found 
this  morning  if  this  cowardly  hulk,"  point 
ing  at  the  brig  captain,  "  had  let  me  fire  the 
carronade." 

"  Well,"  says  Blakely  very  pleasant,  "  we 
owe  you  a  good  deal  Captain,"  then  he  gave 
a  few  orders  and  walked  aft.  As  he  went 
I  heard  him  say  to  the  purser,  "  fit  her  up 
a  berth  somewhere  well  away  from  the 
fok's'le."  Lord,  you  should  have  seen  the 
girl's  face  for  she  heard  him  too. 

"  The  farther  the  better  !  "  she  cried,  "  the 
farther  the  better.  I  'd  not  suffer  one  of 
your  beggarly  Yankee  swine  to  come  near 
me,"  says  she  in  a  white  heat.  Then  she 
stopped  very  sudden,  ashamed  I  think  of 
the  talk  she  'd  used.  She  ran  a  few  steps 
after  Captain  Blakely,  and  as  he  turned, 
saluted  like  a  Jack  tar  and  says  quite  low — 
"  I  ask  your  pardon,  Captain,"  then  turned 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  57 


about  and  leaned  against  the  bulwarks  look 
ing  away  towards  the  brig. 

I  liked  her  asking  pardon,  for  I  saw  it 
came  hard,  but  she  should  ha'  done  it.  No 
decenter  lot  of  lads  ever  came  out  of  port 
than  we  had  aboard.  Such  as  had  n't  wives 
had  sweethearts,  except  maybe  Bill  Fry,  and 
if  I  had  n't  one  I  was  getting  one  so  far  as 
my  part  went,  pretty  fast.  If  ever  a  man 
was  taken  off  of  his  feet  of  a  sudden  't  was 
I.  Says  I  to  me  before  ever  we  came 
aboard  the  Wasp  with  Nancy,  "  there  's  the 
lass  I  want."  In  my  mind  I  ran  her  along 
side  of  Lindy  and  she  took  the  wind  out  of 
Lindy's  sails  and  left  them  flapping.  'T  was 
like  a  privateer  alongside  a  Jersey  coasting 
schooner — and  her  spirit  and  her  temper,  I 
liked  'em  all. 

"  She  's  not  the  sort  to  care  for  a  swab 
like  Jim  Downs,  not  for  a  minute,"  thinks  I. 
And  this  shows  I  did  n't  understand  her  any 
more  than  any  other  woman.  As  I  was 
working  upon  a  sail  that  wanted  the  needle, 
I  kept  an  eye  her  way.  Once  she  looked 


58  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


around  and  caught  me  and  I  could  see  she 
remembered  my  face.  They  gave  her  a 
cabin  almost  amidships  that  the  purser's 
clerk  and  Jim  Downs  had  used,  and  stowed 
them  farther  aft.  I  saw  Jim  come  edging  up 
to  her  on  deck,  I  guess  "t  was  to  show  her 
to  her  cabin.  Says  I  to  me,  "  now  for  sport. 
She  '11  keelhaul  the  little  lubber  if  he  stirs 
her  up,"  thinks  I.  Well  he  went  to  her  and 
bowed  very  polite  and  said  something  or 
other  and  she  half  smiled  at  him  and  followed 
him  below  like  a  lamb. 

"  Well,"  thinks  I,  "  I  guess  there  's  some 
thing  in  a  ribbon  shop  or  a  church  choir  that 
I  don't  understand  about,"  and  I  picked  my 
self  up,  for  my  job  was  done,  shouldered  her 
little  sea  chest  and  walked  below  with  it. 
Jim  was  in  my  way  as  I  came  to  the  cabin 
door. 

"  Out  of  the  way  mate,"  says  I,  "  here  's 
the  lass's  trunk." 

"  I  '11  put  it  inside  for  the  lady,"  says  Jim, 
very  airy,  and  saying  lady  very  hard  ;  to  let 
me  know  the  way  to  speak  to  her,  perhaps. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  59 


"  Thankee,"  says  I,  "  I  carried  it  down 
and  I  '11  just  set  it  inside  for  her." 

She  came  to  the  door  just  then. 

"  Take  the  chest,  Mr.  Downs,"  says  she, 
acting  as  if  she  did  n't  see  me.  Well  I  'd 
naught  else  to  do,  so  I  handed  the  trunk  to 
Jim  and  stood  there  a  minute,  awkward  like, 
waiting  I  guess  for  a  "  thank  you."  She  held 
out  her  hand  to  me  and  I  took  it  for  I 
thought  she  meant  to  shake  hands.  Blast 
me  but  she  dropped  a  sixpenny  bit  into  it. 

When  I  'm  angry  I  'm  quicker  to  act  and 
think  than  when  I  'm  in  good  humor,  for 
then  I  'm  a  bit  lazy  and  slow. 

"  Thankee,  Miss,"  says  I,  very  stiff,  "  but 
you  've  mistook  me — I  'm  an  able  seaman — 
this  is  the  ship's  boy — here  you  are  Jimmy," 
and  I  took  his  hand,  shoved  the  coin  into  it 
and  shut  it  over  it  so  hard  he  half  cried  out. 
Then  I  walked  forward  pretty  sure  I  'd  done 
an  all  round  smart  thing  and  at  the  same 
time  red  hot  at  the  girl's  sauce. 

By-and-bye  I  got  cooler  and  then  I  saw  I  'd 
passed  on  to  Jim  the  insult  meant  for  me 


60  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


and  that  he  'd  not  deserved  it  more  than  I 
had,  and,  too,  that  I  'd  laid  a  heavy  hand 
on  a  little  fellow,  not  man  enough  to  clear 
scores  with  me.  Well,  if  I  'm  wrong  I  '11 
say  so.  Back  I  went  to  the  girl's  cabin. 
Jim  was  there  yet,  hanging  round,  helping 
this  way  or  that.  I  came  up  and  put  my 
hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Mate,"  says  I,  "  a  few  minutes  back  I 
miscalled  you  and  put  on  you  the  cut  that 
was  meant  for  me.  I  was  wrong  to  do  it — 
't  is  no  more  your  duty  to  fetch  and  carry 
baggage  than  mine,  and  I  ask  your  pardon," 
says  I,  red  by  now,  and  getting  angry  again 
for  the  girl  stood  in  the  doorway  looking  at 
us  cool  as  you  wish.  Jim  did  n't  speak  up 
at  once  but  she  did. 

"  Mr.  Downs,"  says  she,  "  he  's  asking 
your  pardon  and  now  I  daresay  he  '11  be 
wanting  the  sixpence  back." 

"  Well,  my  man,"  she  says  to  me,  very 
patronizing,  "  here  it  is  again." 

I  was  minded  first  to  go  about  and  have 
no  more  to  do  with  her,  but  of  a  sudden  a 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  61 


whim  seized  me.  "  I  '11  be  even  now,"  says 
I  to  me,  and  I  took  the  sixpence.  "  I  '11 
take  it,  Miss,"  says  I,  smiling,  and  looking 
straight  in  her  eye,  "  and  as  I  see  there  's  a 
hole  in  it  I  '11  wear  it  round  my  neck  to  re 
member  you  by.  Many  thanks  to  you, 
Miss,"  says  I,  laughing  as  I  turned  and 
walked  forward  again.  After  a  few  steps 
I  looked  round.  She  caught  my  eye  and 
I  was  surprised  she  did  n't  look  angry  as  I 
thought  she  would.  I  guess  I  'd  hit  the 
right  way  to  deal  with  her  but  I  did  n't  know 
it  then. 

When  I  saw  Jim  Downs  next  I  went  up 
to  him.  Somehow  I  felt  more  friendly 
towards  him  than  I  had  ever  before.  Now 
this  is  a  strange  thing  and  a  queer  hitch 
enough,  that  though  I  saw  a  man  trying  to 
get  the  weather  of  the  rest  of  us  lads,  me  in 
chief,  with  the  lass,  and  hit  as  I  surely  was 
by  the  first  shot  she  fired,  here  was  I  actually 
running  alongside  of  him  and  being  as  civil 
with  him  as  if  he  'd  been  worth  my  powder. 
And  why?  Just  because  I  wanted  to  talk 


62  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


with  some  one  who  talked  with  her.  Just 
because  I  thought  in  some  way  his  knowing 
her  might  help  me  too.  I  knew  the  fellow's 
ways  and  that  he  'd  be  thick  with  her  before 
long.  For  Jim  had  good  looks,  and  a  trim 
little  figure.  He  brushed  his  hair  straight 
up,  and  wore  little  whiskers  like  those  he  'd 
seen  in  a  picture  of  Commodore  Perry,  and 
he  used  to  shift  his  light  blue  eyes  in  a  way 
that  he  thought  brought  him  luck  with 
the  girls.  Then  as  I  Ve  said,  he  'd  a  sweet 
voice. 

"Well,  Jim,"  says  I,  "what  d'ye  think 
of  the  passenger?  " 

"  Miss  Barker?"  says  he. 

"Yes." 

"  Why  she  's  a  very  sociable  young  lady," 
says  Jim. 

"  I  'm  glad  you  think  so,"  says  1,  "  for,  tell 
you  the  truth,  mate,  she  struck  me  like  a 
little  catamaran." 

"  I  hope  the  boys  won't  annoy  her,"  says 
he,  looking  as  if  he  thought  it  likely. 

"  No  danger,"  says  I,  "  don't  fret  yourself." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  63 


"  Bill,"  says  he,  quickly,  "  you  ain't  a-go 
ing  to  wear  that  sixpence,  are  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  says,  "  that  I  am.  It  's  good 
pay  for  the  raking  she  gave  me  all  for  doing 
her  a  favor.  Yes  I  am,"  says  I,  "what 
of  it  ?  " 

"  Oh,  nothing,"  says  he,  "  only  she  feels 
mighty  bad  about  it,  and  thinks  it  might 
look  as  if,  as  if —  " 

"  As  if  she  really  gave  it  to  me  for  that 
use,  hay !  "  says  I,  "  Well,  't  will  serve  her 
good  and  right.  She  '11  know  more  next 
time  than  to  be  insulting  a  decent  seaman," 
says  I. 

I  was  a  little  hot  again,  and  of  course  when 
I  cooled,  I  felt  different.  "  Jim,"  says  I, 
when  I  saw  him  next,  "  tell  me  what  she 
said  about  that  sixpence  again."  He  told 
me.  "  Well,"  says  I,  "  I  'm  going  to  give  it 
back  to  her,"  and  I  started  for  the  com- 
panionway. 

"  Hold  on,"  says  Jim,  "  better  give  it  to 
me — she  wont  see  you.  Let  me  take  it." 

"  Not  if  I  know  it,"    says  I,  "  she  shall 


64  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


have  it  if  she  takes  it  herself,  no  other 
way." 

I  started  to  go  below  when  he  ran  after 
me  and  caught  me  by  the  arm. 

"  Look  here,"  says  he,  quite  loud,  hoping 
to  be  heard  by  the  officer  of  the  deck,  "  don't 
you  go  to  annoying  that  girl." 

"  You  go  to  blazes,"  says  I,  and  slung  my 
arm  round.  He  let  go  and  as  luck  would 
have  it  a  roll  of  the  ship  sent  him  sprawling 
into  the  scuppers.  I  went  on  laughing. 
When  I  got  to  the  door  of  her  cabin  I  stood 
a  minute,  then  knocked.  I  felt  a  little 
strange,  and  just  a  trifle  the  way  I  felt  later, 
when  we  went  into  action  with  the  Reindeer. 
She  called  out,  "  What  is  it,  who  's  there  ?  " 

"  William  Fry,  Miss,"  says  I,  "  with  your 
sixpence." 

"  What  of  it,"  says  she  very  tart. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  Jim  Downs  told  me 
you  'd  been  worrying  for  fear  I  'd  be  wear 
ing  it  round  like  a  token." 

She  laughed. 

"  Do  you  suppose  any  man  would  believe 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  65 


I  'd  give  you  or  any  other  aboard  this  ship, 
'  a  token,  '  "  says  she.  "  You  must  think 
pretty  well  of  yourself  Mr.  William  Fry," 
she  says,  and  laughs  again. 

I  took  the  sixpence  and  wedged  it  between 
the  door  and  the  jamb.  "  Here  it  is,"  says 
I,  "  keep  it  or  leave  it,  't  is  the  last  time  I  '11 
put  my  nose  in  a  way  to  be  pinched."  She 
said  something  else  I  could  n't  understand. 
I  went  away  and  as  I  went  I  heard  the  door 
open  and  shut.  I  stole  back  on  tiptoe  and 
the  coin  was  gone. 

I  got  on  deck  just  in  time  to  see  the  end 
of  the  brig  Neptune.  Everything  that  was 
of  much  value  we  brought  aboard  save  the 
cargo,  then  set  her  afire.  As  our  boat's  crew 
came  over  the  side  and  we  stood  awav  I  heard 
some  one  curse  near  me,  and  saw  the  mer 
chant  captain  looking  at  the  burning  craft. 
There  were  tears  running  down  his  face,  and 
his  mouth  was  full  of  the  kind  of  word  that  I 
heard  slip  out.  I  did  n't  blame  him.  There 
was  his  ship  gone  to  smoke  and  ashes  with 
her  cargo  all  aboard  and  he  a  prisoner.  Just 


66  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


then  at  this  minute  the  lookout  sights  another 
sail,  and  the  Neptune  was  forgot  by  all  of  us 
in  a  minute. 

One  ship  burnt,  and  another  to  chase  and 
burn,  perhaps  a  fight,  or  run  for  it  our 
selves,  that  's  what  the  life  on  a  cruiser 
means,  and  as  the  sails  were  shook  out  and 
the  breeze  came  fresher,  and  I  lay  out  on  the 
mizzen  yards  spreading  the  white  canvas 
that  always  smells  so  good  to  me,  I  was  glad 
I  'd  shipped,  and  glad  of  life,  and  wanted 
no  better,  for  the  minute,  than  I  had  right 
there. 


CHAPTER  III. 

HOW  WE   TOOK  THE   "REINDEER"   BRIG-O'- 
WAR. 

\A/E  took  the  fresh  sail  we  sighted  and 
hardly  had  we  laid  her  to,  and  thrown 
a  crew  into  her,  but  another  and  another 
rose  out  of  the  sea  against  the  sky  line. 
'T  was  like  gunning  in  the  old  salt  marshes 
down  Biddeford  way — a  plover  gets  up  right, 
then  left,  then  just  ahead,  and  you  hardly 
know  which  to  let  drive  at. 

But  we  lost  no  time  when  once  we 
singled  out  our  bird.  Three  prizes  we  got 
in  as  many  days  and  scuttled  or  burnt  'em 
all.  I  don't  intend  to  keep  log  of  our  prizes 
except  they  be  ships  of  war.  I  Ve  another 
journal  home  in  Biddeford  of  my  cruise  along 
with  Captain  Porter  and  there  's  nothing  in 
it  but  yarns  of  the  ships  we  hove  to  and 
67 


68  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


burnt  or  scuttled.  This  book  is  to  tell  of 
another  kind  of  work,  and  I  only  note  the 
ships  we  took,  without  saying  more  about 
'em.  I  spoke  of  the  Neptune  because  she 
was  our  first  haul  and  because  of  Nancy 
Barker.  Now  for  a  different  story. 

'T  was  the  2Oth  of  June,  and  a  gray  day, 
but  very  smooth.  We  were  not  far  from 
latitude  48°,  longitude  11°,  and  were  hot  on 
the  track  of  two  merchant  ships  that  were 
doing  their  best  to  get  away.  'T  was  in  the 
early  morning  about  four,  when  lookout 
sings  high  and  loud,  and  in  a  tone  that 
did  n't  mean  more  merchantmen : 

"  Sail  ho  !     Sail  on  the  weather  beam  !  " 

The  captain  was  on  deck.  He  'd  heard 
the  cry,  and  the  tone  in  it,  and  up  he  comes 
with  his  glass. 

"  Nor'  nor'  east,  sir,"  says  the  boatswain's 
mate  to  him,  and  I  saw  him  level  the  glass 
in  that  quarter.  'T  was  my  watch  on. 
Presently  he  took  the  glass  down  and  looked 
at  a  midshipman,  Mr.  Geisinger,  who  stood 
by.  He  was  smiling,  that  pleasant  smile  he 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  69 


had  when  pleased,  and  sure  enough  he  was 
pleased  this  time.  He  said  something  to 
the  middy,  and  then  let  him  take  the  glass. 
He  looked,  and  handed  it  to  the  boatswain's 
mate.  In  a  few  minutes  the  word  came 
forward  that  we  'd  sighted  one  of  the  King's 
ships  this  time,  and  not  too  big  for  us.  So 
all  knew  what  that  meant. 

In  a  short  time  the  news  got  below  and 
through  the  forecastle,  and  the  men  came 
tumbling  up. 

"  Where  is  she,  Bill  ?  "  they  'd  call,  and 
"  What  does  she  look  like?  "  Old  Josh  was 
pulled  a  dozen  ways. 

"  Can  you  see  her,  Josh?     Is  that  her?" 

"  No,  you  lubber,  that  's  a  merchantman." 

"  Well,  that  's  her,  then." 

"  A  merchantman  too,  matey,  where  's 
your  eyes? " 

"  I  see  her,  I  see  her ;  will  she  give  us  a 
fight,  d'  ye  think  ?  "  and  all  that.  The  new 
hands  were  excited,  but  I  think  not  one  of 
them  was  scared.  If  one  there  was,  his 
name  was  Bill  Fry,  and  he  'd  seen  a  man's 


;6  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


head  knocked  into  scraps  by  a  round  shot 
once,  and  knew  how  such  things  looked. 
Among  the  old  hands  there  was  n't  so  much 
stir.  They  knew  what  a  sea  fight  meant. 
But  I  '11  not  say  one  of  them  was  scared. 
They  were  not  the  kind.  Very  little  shout 
about  'em,  not  much  brag,  but  "  stand-bys  " 
all,  who  'd  swung  cutlass  and  cleared  away 
with  the  boarders  from  the  days  we  licked 
the  Tripolitan  niggers,  to  this  cloudy  June 
morning. 

The  captain  was  watching  her  every 
minute  and  the  day  was  breaking  fast.  Sud 
denly  a  sort  of  half  cheer  came  from  the  quar 
terdeck,  and  soon  we  knew  the  cause.  The 
stranger  was  standing  for  us,  coming  right 
down  too  as  fast  as  the  light  breeze  would 
bring  her.  She  'd  seen  us,  for  her  course 
was  changed  of  a  sudden. 

"  Now,  my  lads,"  says  old  Josh,  to  a  knot 
of  the  green  ones,  "  that  's  the  way  with  the 
British  navy.  The  quickest  way  to  find  out 
who  you  be  's  to  come  and  see.  She  's  com 
ing  ;  and  there  's  some  of  you  may  wish  you 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  71 


was  back  to  Portsmouth  before  two  bells," 
says  he.  "  They  're  damn  inquisitive,"  he 
says,  laughing,  "  those  King's  ships,  and  if 
you  don't  play  pretty  sharp  with  your  pikes 
and  cutlasses  't  would  be  like  their  cursed 
impudence  to  come  right  aboard,  and  be 
pretty  cross  with  you  all." 

We  knew  by  his  look  that  he  did  n't  ex 
pect  a  call  of  the  kind  without  our  having 
some  say  about  it,  and  we  were  getting  a 
streak  of  John  Bull's  cocksureness  ourselves. 
We  'd  heard  a  good  deal  of  the  Constitution, 
and  the  United  States,  the  Hornet,  and  the 
first  Wasp,  and  little  enough  of  the  Argus, 
or  the  Chesapeake,  and  I  guess  there  was  n't 
a  man  aboard,  unless  't  was  Downs,  and  he 
was  only  a  man  in  a  way  of  speaking, 
who  had  a  fear  as  to  what  would  be  the 
upshot  of  the  fight.  And  yet  the  breakfast 
many  of  the  men  put  in  was  light.  Some 
may  say  this  is  a  mark  of  fear,  but  't  is  noth 
ing  of  the  kind.  It  is  a  sort  of  excitement 
and  looking  forward,  as  it  were,  to  what  is 
going  to  call  for  all  the  nerve  a  man  has  got. 


72  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


It  's  the  heart  in  a  man  working  hard,  and 
the  stomach  can't  be  looked  to  be  at  its 
best.  With  many  a  lad,  too,  V  is  fear  of  a 
certain  kind,  the  kind  that  dreads  lest  he 
will  not  play  the  man  at  the  right  time,  and 
that  's  the  worst  fear  of  all. 

One  thing  was  pretty  trying  to  the  green 
ones,  that  was  the  length  of  time  the  ships 
took  getting  together.  She  had  stood  for 
us  soon  as  she  made  us  out,  and  we  'd  stood 
for  her ;  but  the  breeze  was  so  light  't  was 
noon  and  later,  before  we  began  to  get  into 
fighting  distance. 

I  'd  forgot  about  Nancy  Barker.  She  did  n't 
come  on  deck  till  along  in  the  forenoon. 
She  had  some  acquaintances  among  the 
crew  of  the  Neptune  to  whom  she  talked. 
Of  course  news  got  to  the  prisoners  that  we 
were  going  to  have  a  fight  on  our  hands, 
and  there  was  plenty  of  excitement.  Among 
them  now  there  was  lots  of  unpleasant 
feeling,  but  I  could  n't  blame  'em.  There 
they  were  aboard  of  us,  non-combatants,  but 
just  as  likely  to  stop  a  round  shot  or  be 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  73 


keeled  over  by  a  splinter  as  if  they  were  n't 
and  by  their  own  countrymen,  too.  'T  was 
hard  enough. 

Nancy  Barker,  who  by  this  time  had  got 
pretty  used  to  such  of  the  men  as  naturally 
came  athwart  her,  was  full  of  excitement, 
but  kept  quiet.  She  had  got  into  a  way  of 
coming  on  deck  and  sitting  by  the  main 
hatch,  with  some  kind  of  work  in  her  hands 
which  she  never  worked  on,  but  always  car 
ried.  Old  Josh  said  to  her, — she  treated 
him  decently,  he  was  one  of  the  few  she  'd 
talk  to  at  all : 

"  Miss  Nancy,  you  carry  those  signals  to 
fool  folks,"  says  he,  "just  as  a  ship-o'-war 
hoists  bunting  to  make  a  chase  believe  she  's 
a  merchantman,"  says  Josh. 

"  D'  ye  think  I  'm  chasing  you,  you  bloomin' 
old  flushinger?"  she  'd  say,  and  he  'd  laugh 
fit  to  die.  He  and  the  other  old  lads  made 
a  great  pet  of  Nancy,  but  with  the  younger 
men,  except  Downs,  't  was  nothing  at  all 
she  'd  say,  or  if  anything,  't  would  be  some 
thing  that  would  make  'em  wish  she  'd  kept 


74  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


still.  She  was  that  nice  to  Downs  that  I 
wanted  a  dozen  times  a  day  to  drop  him 
astern  for  shark  bait.  And  the  little  beggar 
grew  so  cocky  that  I  used  to  wonder  he 
did  n't  forget  to  salute  his  officers.  But 
I  'm  going  wide  again. 

'T  was  during  the  forenoon  that  Nancy 
came  on  deck.  She  'd  got  a  glass,  through 
Jim,  I  guess,  and  began  to  examine  the 
stranger.  He  was  getting  close  enough  now 
for  us  to  see  he  was  a  brig-o'-war,  carrying, 
to  all  appearances,  ten  guns  to  the  broad 
side.  He  could  see  us  too,  of  course,  and 
what  we  were,  but  that  did  n't  bother  him  a 
bit.  He  could  see  we  were  more  than  his 
weight,  but  perhaps  he  'd  been  used  to  fight 
ing  Frenchmen,  or  had  his  head  full  of  the 
truck  some  English  reports  were  loaded  with, 
about  Yankee  ships  winning  only  by  luck  or 
great  odds,  and  that  we  were  really  cowards 
after  all. 

Perhaps  he  was  just  pluck,  and  grit,  and 
sand,  and  was  hunting  for  a  fight.  And  I 
guess  that  last  is  about  the  truth. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  75 


Nancy  looked  for  a  long  time,  then  she 
turned  to  an  old  chap  who  stood  by,  and 
said  :  "  I  know  her — and  you  'd  best  turn 
tail  while  you  can — 't  is  Captain  Manners," 
she  cried,  giving  way  to  her  excitement,  and 
laughing  and  catching  her  breath  in  half 
sobs,  while  the  tears  came  into  her  eyes: 
"  his  crew  's  called  the  pride  of  Plymouth, 
and  I  know  many  a  man  of  'em.  Better  tell 
your  captain  to  get  off  while  he  can,"  she 
calls  to  old  Josh,  and  then  down  she  sits  and 
cries. 

Well,  never  a  choke  had  been  in  her  voice 
nor  a  tear  in  her  eye  all  the  days  she  'd  been 
aboard — in  a  trying  place  for  a  girl  alone. 
She  must  have  been  as  ignorant  of  what 
she  'd  have  to  expect  from  us  Yankees  as 
the  crew  of  the  prize,  who  looked  upon  us 
as  pirates  in  a  way.  But  she  never  weak 
ened,  till  this  day,  and  then  only  when  she 
saw  her  own  flag  and  the  ship  she  knew. 
They  were  tears,  not  because  she  thought 
her  troubles,  such  as  they  were,  were  going 
to  be  ended,  but  because  we  were  going  to 


76  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


see  what  a  British  ship-of-war  could  and 
would  do,  and  to  be  punished  for  our  im 
pudence. 

I  knew  this,  and  I  liked  her  the  better. 
Of  course  she  had  to  go  below  in  a  few 
minutes,  for  we  had  no  room  for  women  on 
the  deck  just  then.  As  she  went,  I  passed 
close  to  her.  She  used  never  to  notice  me, 
though  I  felt  sure  she  knew  when  I  was 
about.  This  time  she  looked  my  way,  and 
for  my  life  I  could  n't  help  putting  out  my 
hand. 

"  Won't  you  wish  me  good  fortune  ?  "  I 
says. 

"The  good  fortune  to  see  Plymouth  jail 
in  a  couple  of  days,"  says  she,  with  a  shot 
out  of  her  eyes. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  if  I  do,  you  '11  may  be 
give  me  a  sixpence  now  and  then  for  grog," 
says  I,  not  thinking  at  all  of  the  coin  she 
gave  me  a  few  days  before.  I  said  it  merely 
to  say  something.  She  did  n't  seem  angry, 
and  put  her  hand  in  the  pocket  of  her  dress 
with  a  sort  of  smile.  For  a  minute  it  seemed 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  77 


as  if  she  would  say  something  pleasant.  Then 
she  turned  and  ran  below. 

"Good-bye,"  calls  I,  "if  I  happen  to  run 
foul  of  a  round  shot  I  '11  not  trouble  you  nor 
Plymouth  jail" 

This  was  not  all  joke  on  my  part.  It  cut 
me,  why  the  Lord  knows,  to  say  good-bye 
to  the  lass  who  treated  me  like  the  deck 
under  her  feet.  But  I  knew  how  thin  your 
skull  is  against  a  round  shot  or  grape  no 
larger  than  a  taw  ally  that  boys  use  at  school, 
and  I  did  n't  like  to  think  I  might  not  see 
that  face  (though  it  had  given  me  but  half 
a  smile  and  that  but  once)  when  hands  were 
piped  to  supper. 

As  I  turned  away,  up  she  comes  again  in 
the  companionway.  She  sort  of  signalled 
me,  but  I  did  n't  heed  it,  half  thinking  I  was 
mistaken,  half  that  't  would  mean  another 
speech  of  the  kind,  the  only  kind  she  used 
to  give  me.  I  thought  perhaps  she  was 
going  to  say  something  civil,  for  I  'd  done 
her  no  harm  but  to  admire  her,  which  she 
knew  I  did.  There  was  never  a  woman 


78  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


quicker  to  see  when  a  man  admired  her 
than  she  was.  But  then  I  knew  she  could 
be  and  would  be  pretty  sharp  tongued 
and  all  for  no  reason  at  all.  So  I  sheered 
off. 

All  this  is  n't  telling  how  we  came  into 
action  with  the  British  brig.  Keeping  my 
log  as  I  did  't  was  hard  to  bar  private  doing 
and  thinking  out  of  it ;  but  all  this  occurred 
while  the  two  vessels  were  making  towards 
each  other. 

By  now  't  was  an  hour  after  noon  and  of 
a  sudden  came  a  sound  that  took  every 
thought  but  one  from  the  mind  of  each  man 
in  the  crew — the  roll  of  the  drum,  beating  to 
quarters.  I  got  to  my  place  at  my  gun, 
't  was  sixth  gun  of  the  port  broadside  and 
a  short  time  after,  the  Wasp  went  about  and 
stood  dead  ahead  down  upon  the  enemy  to 
get  the  weather  of  her.  But  the  British  cap 
tain  knew  his  trade,  and  twenty  minutes  or 
so  later,  tacked  and  stood  away.  Now  Cap 
tain  Blakely  wanted  the  weathergage,  and 
the  other  wanted  it  too.  It  was  a  fine  fight 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  79 


of  seamanship  between  'em.  Not  a  gun  was 
fired,  no  long  bowls  played.  It  was  trying 
to  our  new  hands  aboard,  but  they  'd  been 
trained  too  well  to  open  their  mouths.  About 
half  past  two,  the  enemy  tacked  again  and 
came  straight  for  us.  I  could  see  that  she 
was  taking  in  staysails  and  the  boatswain's 
whistle  sent  our  boys  aloft. 

"  She  '11  weather  us,"  says  the  gun-captain 

.  to  me,  a  minute  or  two  later,  "  she  '11  weather 

us  yet,  no,  by  the  Lord,  we  're  going  about. 

That  's  seamanly,  that  's  right,"  says  he  half 

under  his  breath. 

You  could  hear  the  men  at  the  gun  breath 
ing  quick  and  deep  but  none  spoke  but  the 
gun-captain.  It  was,  I  thought  at  the  time, 
the  hardest  half  hour  of  my  life. 

"If  fight  is  to  come,"  thinks  I,  "  God  send 
it  quick." 

But 't  was  not  yet  the  time  appointed.  As 
we  ran  off  with  the  wind  on  our  port  beam,  it 
seemed  to  some  of  the  lads  that  we  were 
trying  to  get  away  ;  a  low  murmur  came 
from  one  or  two  of  the  guns,  and  then  I 


8o  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


heard  some  officer's  voice,  sharp  and  deter 
mined  but  taut  with  excitement  : 

"  Quiet,  there,  quiet,  damn  you — you  '11 
get  fight  enough,  quiet  now." 

Up  went  the  flying  jib  on  the  British  brig 
and  she  began  to  creep  up.  It  must  have 
pleased  her  to  seem  to  be  chasing  a  sloop  of 
war,  yet  from  what  I  saw  of  her  fighting,  I 
guess  she  'd  ha'  chased  a  74,  if  it  had  n't 
waited  for  her.  But  we  were  n't  worrying 
to  get  away,  not  a  bit.  Suddenly,  when  she 
was  inside  of  a  hundred  yards  from  us,  there 
was  a  report,  a  swarm  of  grape  and  round 
shot  sang  over  the  little  stretch  of  sea  be 
tween  us,  and  crashed  into  our  hull  and 
rattled  about  the  shrouds  and  deck  hamper. 

There  was  never  a  sound  on  the  whole 
ship  but  the  noise  of  a  few  bits  of  wood,  a 
rope  end  or  two  falling  on  deck  ;  no  man 
stirred.  The  ships  still  kept  their  course 
unchanged. 

Again  there  came  the  boom  of  a  gun,  and 
again  the  shot  whistled  about  us.  A  man 
at  number  ten  gun  gave  a  short,  low  cry,  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  81 


gripped  his  arm,  and  the  blood  ran  down 
upon  the  white  deck.  There  was  a  word  or 
two  from  the  officer  of  the  section,  the 
wounded  man  went  below  and  a  new  man 
stood  in  his  place. 

Again  came  the  report,  they  were  work 
ing  a  shifting  carronade  on  us,  and  not  a 
gun  could  we  train,  running  as  we  were,  to 
answer ;  then  again,  and  still  there  was  not 
a  brass  mouth  spoke  for  us.  The  men 
were  red  at  the  guns,  not  pale.  Rage  had 
got  hold  of  'em,  and  a  mighty  wish  to  talk 
back.  At  the  fifth  discharge  of  the  carron 
ade,  which  was  well  aimed  and  did  damage, 
stoving  in  a  boat,  ripping  and  cutting  the 
sails,  and  laying  three  men  in  the  scuppers, 
I  looked  at  the  captain  of  the  gun — 't  was 
but  a  look,  I  said  nothing,  but  he  was  savage 
at  the  delay. 

"  Shut  up,"  he  said,  as  though  I  'd  said  a 
word,  "  we  '11  fire  on  orders,  not  before!" 

I  heard  the  men  at  several  guns  curse  to 
themselves,  and  many  of  them  looked  at  their 
officers  with  eyes  that  fairly  begged.  But 

6 


82  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


not  a  gun  nor  pistol  shot  came  from  the 
Wasp.  She  went  on  her  course  like  a  dumb 
beast,  when  suddenly,  for  Blakely  saw  that 
the  enemy  would  not  get  upon  his  beam,  our 
helm  was  put  a-lee,  and  we  luffed.  As  our 
guns  began  to  bear,  the  order  came  to  fire 
from  aft  forward  as  the  guns  bore. 

"  Now,  then,  it  's  our  turn,"  yelled  the  cap 
tain  of  the  first  gun,  and  with  a  roar  that 
shook  the  ship,  the  firing  ran  along  the  port 
side.  Each  crew  yelled  at  the  discharge, 
and  worked  like  devils  at  reloading.  If  it 
was  a  long  time  waiting  for  the  ship  to  get 
to  firing,  't  was  a  lifetime  to  me  from  the 
time  number  ten  spoke  up  till  't  was  the  turn 
of  six.  The  sweat  fairly  stood  upon  our 
faces,  the  mouths  of  the  men  twitched,  and 
their  eyes  glared  like  cats'. 

"  Now,"  shouted  the  captain  of  our  gun, 
with  a  curse  that  he  did  n't  know  he  spoke, 
and  old  six  let  go  her  message. 

"  Load  !  " — we  loaded — "  fire !  " — we  fired  ; 
load  and  swab  and  fire,  again  and  again, 
God  knows  I  can't  tell  much  what  went  on 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  83 


except  by  our  gun,  and  't  was  nothing  but 
load  and  fire  there.  The  ship  shook  with 
each  broadside,  and  we  saw  nothing  but 
smoke  before  us,  with  now  and  again  dots 
of  flame  when  the  guns  of  the  brig  blew  a 
passage  through.  They  were  fighting  hard 
as  we,  may  be  harder,  for  our  weight  was 
heavier.  We  were  creeping  along  in  the 
light  wind,  closing  nearer  and  nearer  all  the 
time.  Ten  minutes,  they  tell  me,  was  all  I 
lived  till  the  first  lull  came — well,  it  might 
have  been  only  one,  or  it  might  have  been 
an  hour — for  I  did  n't  seem  to  live,  but 
only  to  be  one  of  a  lot  of  grimy  devils, 
hauling,  swabbing,  lifting  shot,  and  cursing; 
a  crew  out  of  hell. 

Of  a  sudden,  through  the  smoke,  we  saw 
the  bows  of  the  brig,  splintered  and  riddled, 
her  flying  jib  a  bunch  of  ribbons,  and  all  her 
ropes  hanging  loose.  The  two  crafts  were 
nearly  touching  when  the  enemy,  with  his 
helm  a-weather,  ran  us  aboard  on  the  port 
quarter.  We  saw  the  boarders  through  the 
smoke  run  forwards,  we  saw  our  marines 


84  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


come  hurrying  aft.  Some  of  the  lads  at  the 
guns  jumped  to  join  them,  and  had  to  be 
fairly  hauled  back.  The  great  moment  was 
coming;  't  was  not  gun  for  gun,  but  man 
to  man,  and  it  was  hard  to  stand  by  our  own 
work  at  the  guns. 

Under  the  bulwark  the  boarders  were 
huddled,  cutlasses  drawn,  and  back  of  them 
our  lads  with  the  pikes.  And  now  with  a 
grating  and  grinding  the  vessels  came  to 
gether,  and  through  the  open  ports,  panting 
hard  with  excitement,  and  rage,  choking  with 
the  foul-smelling  smoke  from  the  cannon, 
the  two  crews  hacked  and  thrust  and  yelled. 

Onto  our  bulwarks  they  came  swarming, 
cutlasses  rattled  against  cutlasses,  pistols 
barked,  and  pikes  pushed  the  foremost 
back,  but  not  without  pay  for  it,  and  not 
till  the  best  of  'em  were  killed,  or  down. 

'T  was  so  near  my  gun  I  saw  it  all.  I  '11 
never  forget  the  look  of  those  bull-dogs  as 
they  came  aboard,  and  the  devilish  earnest 
way  our  lads  went  at  them.  'T  was  bull 
dog  and  bull-terrier,  both  'much  the  same 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  85 


breed.  They  looked  like  us,  they  cursed 
like  us,  they  fought  like  us,  and  if  we  did 
beat  'em  off,  we  did  n't  follow  'em,  or  Lord 
knows  we  might  a'  had  to  eat  the  same 
pudding. 

But  they  came  back,  they  came  back, 
though  it  must  have  been  plain  to  'em  by 
now  that  we  were  too  heavy  for  'em  and 
outnumbered  'em  nearly  three  to  two. 

"  Look  there,"  shouted  my  gun  captain 
suddenly,  and  there  in  the  rigging,  working 
his  way  to  where  he  might  board  us,  stood  a 
man,  in  officer's  uniform — his  face  pale  and 
bloody,  his  hands  that  gripped  his  cutlass 
red  and  black  as  well,  his  smallclothes 
soaked  in  blood  from  a  cruel  shot  in  the 
thigh,  and  he  staggered  as  he  clutched  the 
riggmg  5  but  game,  game ! 

"  Come  on,  lads,  come  on,"  he  shouted, 
"  once  more  and  she  's  ours  !  " 

"  Follow  the  Captain,  huzzay  !  "  yelled 
the  men  climbing  up  about  him. 

Then  the.  Captain,  for  't  was  Captain 
Manners  himself,  flung  one  hand  to  his 


86  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


head  and,  with  his  sword  still  clenched  in 
his  fist,  fell  back  dead  upon  his  own  deck. 
A  ball  from  our  mizzen-top  had  stopped  the 
life  of  as  brave  a  man  as  I  ever  saw,  bar 
none. 

'T  was  our  turn  now,  and  over  the  sides 
we  boys  went.  In  a  minute  we  were  hot  at 
it  on  the  Reindeer  s  deck.  The  British  had 
fallen  back  at  their  captain's  death,  but  they 
were  of  the  right  breed.  Pistol,  cutlass,  and 
pike  all  going  hot,  and  the  spatter  and  ping- 
pang  of  the  bullets  from  the  top  men  drop 
ping  all  around.  But  't  was  not  for  long ; 
number,  and  good  luck,  yes,  and  clever 
fighting,  together  was  too  much,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  the  decks  were  cleared  of  all 
who  could  stand,  and  the  brig  struck.  And 
who  surrendered  her  ?  The  Captain's  clerk, 
the  highest  officer  left  able  to  do  so ! 

I  Ve  but  little  to  say  of  this  fight  beyond 
what  I  saw  of  it.  I  was  in  it,  one  part  of  it, 
and  I  know  when  I  say  't  was  desperate  hard 
work  I  'm  telling  no  lie.  We  'd  eleven  men 
killed  and  fifteen  wounded,  the  Reindeer 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  87 


thirty-three  killed  and  thirty-four  wounded. 
Her  bulwarks,  boats,  and  upper  works  were 
wrecks.  "  Pride  of  Plymouth,"  I  heard 
again,  her  crew  was  called.  Well,  Plymouth 
may  well  be  proud  of  them,  and  all  England 
too,  say  I. 

I  was  hurt  a  little  myself — a  splinter  hit 
me  in  the  shoulder,  knocking  me  down,  but 
doing  little  harm  besides  laming  me  for  a 
week  or  two.  I  went  below  as  soon  as  the 
brig  struck,  for  I  was  dying  for  a  drop  of 
water. 

Out  of  her  cabin  amidships  came  Nancy 
Barker  and  ran  towards  me. 

"  Well,"  says  I  to  myself,  "  she  's  glad  to 
see  I  'm  not  hurt  bad,  I  guess,"  uut  she 
was  n't  thinking  of  me. 

"  Well,"  she  cried,  "  so  you  Ve  struck  at 
last,  have  you  ?  " 

I  stared. 

"  Of  course  you  have,  I  tell  you,"  she 
almost  screamed,  stamping  her  foot — "  the 
fight  's  over." 

I  was  sorry  for  the  lass.     "  Yes,"  says  I, 


88  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


gently  as  I  could,  "  the  fight  's  over,  Miss, 
but  we  have  n't  struck." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  she  cried,  "  I  'm  going 
on  deck  to  see." 

I  caught  her  by  the  arm — "  'T  is  no  place  for 
you,  Miss,"  I  said,  "  and  there  's  danger,  too, 
from  falling  ropes  and  halyards  may-be " 

"  I  'm  going  on  deck,"  she  said  again  and 
pulled  away  from  me  and  ran  up  the  hatch. 
Right  across  the  top,  dead  and  bloody,  lay 
what  had  been  poor  Tim  Stevens.  She 
stopped,  screamed,  and  almost  fell  back.  I 
was  close  to  her  and  helped  her  down. 

"  Go  to  your  cabin,  Miss,"  said  I,  "  in 
God's  name.  'T  was  your  flag  was  struck, 
but  your  Plymouth  lads  fought  the  best 
men  could,  and  if  Captain  Manners  had 
lived  " — I  was  going  to  lie  a  bit  to  comfort 
her,  and  say  if  the  British  Captain  had  lived 
the  fight  might  have  gone  his  way ;  but 
truth  is  't  was  a  lost  fight,  gallant  as  it  was, 
from  the  first  gun  we  fired. 

"  Captain  Manners  dead,"  says  she,  "  and 
all  his  crew  ?  " 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  89 


"Not  all,"  says  I,  "but  a  good  half." 
She  was  very  pale  and  quiet  now  and  went 
back  to  her  cabin.  Thinks  I,  "  she  's  got  a 
sweetheart  in  that  ship's  crew." 

Well,  we  burned  the  prize  the  next  day — 
she  was  too  cut  up  to  keep — and  we  licked 
our  own  wounds,  so  to  speak,  and  gave  our 
own  poor  boys  and  the  Reindeer's  dead  the 
sailor's  burial  they  had  earned. 

To  some  folks  the  thought  of  slipping  off 
a  plank  with  a  shroud  of  canvas  and  a  shot 
at  your  feet  is  fearsome.  But  not  to  me. 
I  've  known  seafaring  men  to  die  asking  to 
be  laid  in  a  churchyard,  under  green  grass. 
None  o'  that  for  me.  I  like  the  shark  better 
than  the  worm,  and  clean  green  salt  water 
is  better  to  be  mixed  up  with  than  the 
muck  or  loam  of  a  village  graveyard.  Will 
I  be  the  more  forgot  because  there  's  no 
tombstone  to  me,  nor  no  rhyme  telling  what 
a  fine  man  I  was  and  how  I  steered  a  straight 
course  to  heaven  ?  Not  I.  Out  of  sight  is 
out  of  mind  whether  you  lie  in  the  half  acre 
about  the  meeting-house  or  drift  with  the 


90  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


currents  of  the  salt  sea.  And  for  me,  let  me 
have  the  same  burial  the  two  score  brave 
lads  from  the  Reindeer  and  Wasp  got.  Side 
by  side  they  went  down  into  the  ocean  that 
they  fought  over,  and  that  was  proud  of 
them  ;  and  with  them,  commanding  the 
dead,  so  to  speak,  went  the  body  of  Captain 
William  Manners. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  WAYS  OF  NANCY  BARKER. 

T  THOUGHT  Nancy  Barker  had  a  sweet 
heart  on  the  Reindeer,  and  I  was  right. 
Part  right,  that  is.  For  I  think  she  cared 
but  little  for  him,  while  he  seemed  to  be 
half  crazy  over  her.  He  was  a  lad  no  more 
than  eighteen,  I  should  think,  and  from 
Plymouth  way.  Boy  as  he  was  he  'd  seen  a 
good  bit  of  the  world,  and  picked  up  tricks 
of  the  devil  in  this  port  or  that. 

He  made  me  think  of  Jim  Downs  in  some 
ways,  only  Jim's  cussedness  was  the  quiet 
kind,  and  this  youngster's  was  more  above- 
board.  I  '11  call  him  Joe,  as  that  was  the 
only  name  he  went  by. 

Two  days  after  the  fight  with  \.}\&  Reindeer 
he  came  up  on  deck.  He  'd  been  hurt  a 
little,  that  kept  him  quiet  a  while,  but  now 
91 


92  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


he  was  in  shape  again,  and  being  a  lad,  the 
Captain  had  let  him  go  about  more  freely 
than  the  other  prisoners,  whom  we  had  to 
guard  carefully.  We  kept  'em  in  irons  be 
cause  't  was  the  safest  thing.  We  could  n't 
keep  a  guard  big  enough  to  take  care  of  'em, 
over  'em,  and  mind  you  we  had  the  crews  of 
three  prize  ships  aboard  as  well.  Why,  had 
they  got  loose,  they  might  have  made  no 
end  of  trouble.  We  were  kind  to  'em,  to 
such  as  we  could  be  kind  to.  Many  of  them 
were  surly  dogs,  good  haters,  I  guess,  and 
't  was  the  presence  of  such  that  made  us 
careful. 

But  it  was  no  trick  to  see  what  kind  of  a 
craft  young  Joe  was,  and  we  gave  him  plenty 
of  sea  room,  and  so  it  came  that  he  found 
Nancy.  She  'd  been  talking  with  some  of 
the  prisoners  who  knew  her,  and  she  knew 
well  enough  that  Joe  was  aboard,  but  she 
made  no  try  to  see  him,  indeed,  rather  kept 
out  of  his  way.  But  the  second  day,  as  I 
said,  after  the  fight,  she  ran  upon  him  stand 
ing  abaft  the  main  hatch.  He  was  smoking 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  93 


a  dirty  cutty  pipe,  and  as  he.  saw  her  he 
started  so  it  fell  from  his  hand  to  the  deck 
and  broke.  I  was  not  far  off.  To  speak  the 
truth  I  think  Nancy  was  going  to  talk  to 
me  when  she  ran  upon  Joe. 

Well,  he  went  right  up  to  her  and  before 
she  could  say  avast  he  put  his  arm  round 
her  and  kissed  her.  I  looked  to  see  her  cuff 
him,  but  she  was  too  angry  for  that.  I 
reckon  she  only  cuffed  people  she  cared  to 
have  kiss  her. 

"  Lookee,  Joe,"  says  she,  very  cool,  "  I  'm 
no  child  any  longer,  though  you  may  be  ; 
don't  you  dare  touch  me  again — after  smok 
ing  a  nasty  pipe  anyhow — no,  nor  at  all, 
d'  ye  hear." 

I  was  laughing  to  myself  as  much  at  the 
mixed-up  reason  she  had  for  not  wanting 
him  to  kiss  her  as  at  the  boy's  look  of  sulky 
surprise,  when  the  boatswain's  mate  passed 
me  and,  pointing  to  the  broken  pipe  and 
spilled  tobacco,  says,  "  Have  that  mess 
swabbed  up,"  and  goes  on. 

I  steps  up  to  Joe.     "  Mate,"  says  I,  "  just 


94  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


redd  up  your  muss  there,  it  's  not  ship 
shape." 

"  All  in  good  time,"  says  he,  very  saucy, 
"  I  'm  talking  to  a  lady  now " 

"  Must  you  always  be  interfering,  in 
deed  ?  "  says  Nancy  to  me  very  supercilious. 

"You  clean  it  up  now,  my  boy,"  says  I, 
dropping  my  hand  on  his  shoulder,  and  pay 
ing  no  notice  to  her  at  all.  "  This  is  a  ship- 
o'-war  you  're  on,  where  there  's  such  a  thing 
as  discipline." 

"  D'  ye  mean,  mayhap,  we  had  none 
aboard  the  Reindeer  ?  "  says  he,  quite  hot 
and  bristling  up. 

"  Oh,  come,  come,  come,"  says  I,  taking 
him  round  the  waist  and  lifting  him  over  to 
the  hatchway,  "  you  go  and  get  a  swab  and 
redd  this  deck  up  ;  don't  you  try  to  fight ; 
we  settled  all  that  two  days  ago." 

Well,  he  swabbed  the  deck. 

Nancy  seemed  to  forget  she  'd  been  angry 
at  him,  and  stooped  down  and  picked  up 
bits  of  the  pipe  and  hove  'em  overboard  and 
called  him  poor  Joe,  who  'd  been  hurt,  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  95 


said  some  men  did  n't  seem  to  know  the 
difference  between  big  and  little. 

"  Why,  Joe,"  says  she,  "  when  that  big 
rough  " — there  she  stopped  ;  I  guessed,  as  I 
stood  near  by  making  believe  not  to  listen, 
she  'd  call  me  a  swab  or  a  lubber,  for  she  had 
the  words  pat  and  was  none  too  nice  tongued 
to  use  'em  ;  but  she  was  going  to  do  worse — 
"  coward,"  she  goes  on,  and  then  over  the 
course  again — "  that  big  rough  coward  had 
hold  of  you  it  made  me  think  of  this  top- 
heavy,  blooming,  disguised  frigate  and  our 
little  Reindeer"  says  she. 

All  this  made  me  two  points  or  three  to 
windward  of  pretty  blasted  mad.  She  'd 
called  me  a  coward  and,  more  than  that, 
she  'd  miscalled  the  ship.  I  came  right 
over ;  if  she  wanted  to  get  me  alongside, 
she  'd  run  up  the  proper  signal. 

"  I  'm  about  twice  Joe's  size,"  says  I,  try 
ing  to  talk  cool,  "  and  you  won't  say  we  're 
twice  as  big  as  the  Reindeer — 3  to  2  is  how 
we  'd  rate,  I  reckon,  and  that  's  not  such  a 
thundering  big  difference,  'specially  when 


96  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


you  remember  we  knocked  her  into  match 
sticks  and  laid  out  half  her  crew." 

"  Yankee  brag,"  says  Nancy. 

"  I  'm  sorry,  though,  I  touched  you,  lad," 
says  I,  "  for  you  've  a  lame  arm  ;  well,  so 
have  I,  but  the  Lord  did  n't  build  you  quite 
the  way  he  did  me,  and  I  'm  sorry  I  handled 
you." 

"  Legs  don't  count,"  says  he,  sulky. 

"  You  're  always  apologizing  for  laying 
hands  on  little  men,"  says  Nancy. 

"  Yes,"  I  says,  very  cool,  for  I  felt  they 
were  evening  up  by  what  they  said  for  any 
bad  temper  I  'd  shown.  "  Yes,  I  always 
will  too  when  I  do  it,  I  hope,"  says  I,  and 
turned  to  go. 

"  Did  you  say  legs  don't  count,  Joe,"  says 
Nancy  very  pleasant,  "  why  ashore  now,  a 
man  could  run  fast  on  a  pair  of  long  legs 
maybe." 

"  But  being  aboard  ship  and  on  duty  by 
my  gun  I  could  n't  use  'em,  I  suppose,"  says 
I,  turning  round  and  going  back  to  her  side. 
"  Well,  Miss,  hark  to  me.  You  Ve  miscalled 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  97 


me  and  run  foul  of  me  now  the  last  time. 
The  Lord  knows  I  Ve  not  meant  to  offend 
you,  but  you  '11  have  no  more  chance  to  be 
troubled  by  me,  so  here  's  good  day." 

I  was  so  hot  I  talked  like  a  fool,  I  guess, 
but  I  said  my  say  and  went  about  my  work. 
Pretty  soon  I  heard  her  and  Joe  hard  at  it. 
Her  temper  was  none  of  the  best,  and  may 
be  I  stirred  it,  for  she  stood  all  around  Joe 
and  raked  him  from  every  quarter.  By  and 
by  Jim  Downs  passed  me.  I  knew  where 
he  was  bound,  and  pretty  soon  Joe  goes  by 
from  the  other  quarter.  'T  was  Jim's  turn, 
I  suppose,  and  for  a  long  time  they  talked, 
and  then  Jim  sang  a  bit  in  a  low  voice,  and 
she  sang  too.  She  had  a  nice,  rather  deep 
voice,  and  they  seemed  to  know  the  same 
songs.  I  soon  knew  why,  for  my  work — I 
was  doing  a  trick  at  painting  a  bit  of  the 
bulwarks  just  forward  the  mizzen-shrouds — 
brought  me  nearer  them  every  few  minutes. 
"Yes,"  Jim  says,  "my  mother  was  from 
Bristol." 

"  I  knew  you  must  be  English,  at  least 

7 


98  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


part,"  says  Nancy.  "  There  's  something 
about  you  that  don't  look  Yankee."  All 
this  was  meant  for  me. 

"  Let 's  try  another  song,"  says  Jim,  "  wish 
I  had  my  accordeon  here." 

"  You  would  n't  be  allowed  to  play  it  in 
this  place  if  you  had,  Jim,"  says  I,  forgetting 
I  was  n't  in  the  talk  at  all. 

"  Ho  !  "  says  Nancy,  "  that  gentleman  with 
the  long  legs  is  listening,  Mr.  Downs.  Has 
he  got  long  ears  as  well,  I  wonder."  Jim 
says  nothing — he  knew  when  to  keep  his 
mouth  shut — but  she  went  on. 

"  Do  you  reckon  we  could  sing  a  bit  more 
or  do  you  guess  we  could  n't?"  This  all 
for  me. 

Then  they  sang  a  spell.  Old  Josh  came 
up  near  'em  and  some  others,  and  by  and  by 
when  they  were  through  he  sang  a  verse  of 
his  song,  his  favorite,  about  the  Constitu 
tion  and  the  Guerriere.  He  did  it  to  tease 
Nancy,  and  she  knew  it  and  talked  back  very 
brisk  to  the  old  man. 

"  Did    you    ever   hear   of   the    Shannon, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  99 


Josh  ? "  says  she ;  she  was  very  familiar 
with  him. 

"  Yes,"  says  Josh,  "  she  's  the  74  as  took 
the  Chesapeake,  38. 

Then  Nancy,  of  course,  forgets  it 's  all  fool 
ing  and  gets  mad. 

"  'T  was  ship  to  ship  of  the  same  size, 
every  way,"  says  she ;  "  if  there  was  odds 
'twas  with  you  Yankees." 

"  How  about  the  Chesapeake1  s  crew,"  says 
another,  "  half  green  hands  and  Englishmen 
and  a  spice  of  Portugee  swabs." 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  me  of  green  hands,"  says 
she  very  scornful,  "you  told  me  yourself, 
Josh  Sewall,  that  green  hands  fight  as  well, 
when  it  comes  to  fighting,  as  the  old  hands. 
Why  even  such  long-legged  Johnny  Raws  as 
that  yonder  with  the  paint-brush  will  stand 
by  their  guns,  for  awhile  anyhow." 

Of  course  she  had  to  hit  at  me.  When 
she  was  going  a  bit  free  I  was  always  right 
in  her  course.  This  time  old  Josh  spoke  up 
for  me.  Maybe  he  'd  seen  how  she  kept 
driving  into  me. 


ioo  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  I  agree,"  says  he,  "  green  hands  do,  when 
they  happen  to  be  the  right  breed,  as  the 
Chesapeake  s  were  not ;  not  all  of  'em,  any 
how.  Of  course  Bill  Fry  fought  well  and 
his  gun  captain  '11  tell  you  not  a  man  aboard 
ship  fought  steadier ;  cool  and  quick  he  was 
as  any  could  be." 

I  sat  there  painting,  never  letting  on  I 
heard,  but  I  was  caught  with  a  blasted 
strange  feeling  in  my  throat  to  hear  Josh 
setting  me  right  to  her,  and  the  water  got 
into  my  lights. 

Well,  there  's  nothing  in  all  this,  maybe, 
to  give  it  room  in  my  log,  but  it 's  of  a  piece 
of  what  went  on  every  day,  till  a  week  from 
the  fight  with  the  Reindeer  we  sighted 
L'Orient  and  ran  into  port  for  repairs. 

There's  little  or  nothing  to  say  about 
Nancy  during  this  week,  but  that  she  fooled 
with  Joe  a  bit,  then  seemed  to  take  up  quite 
steady  with  Jim  Downs. 

Twice  she  asked  me  questions  and  twice  I 
answered  'em  without  looking  at  her.  And 
once  I  looked  at  her  without  her  speaking 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  101 


to  me  or  knowing  it,  and  she  turned  and 
saw  me.  If  ever  a  girl  knew  when  a  man 
was  looking  at  her  she  was  the  one  ;  if  he 
was  a  young  man,  anyhow.  I  '11  bet  old 
Josh  might  have  looked  at  her  an  hour  and 
she  never  turn  round.  When  she  caught  me 
looking  at  her,  she  rattling  on  with  Jim,  she 
stopped  a  bit  and  I  noticed  that  she  let  him 
do  the  talking  for  a  spell. 

As  I  said,  she  played  a  bit  with  Joe,  and 
the  boy  was  man  enough  to  be  pretty  sore, 
when  she  sent  him  down  the  wind,  for  the 
other.  He  'd  forgot  his  hard  feeling  against 
me  and  would  sometimes  talk  with  me  about 
her. 

"  She  's  high  and  mighty  now,"  says  he, 
"for  why?  God  knows!  She's  the  same 
Nancy  Barker  as  I  've  kissed  a  dozen  times 
in  her  father's  tavern,  'The  Anchor.'  He 
was  a  retired  mariner,  he  was.  But  now, 
blast  my  eyes,  I  've  but  had  one  kiss,  an' 
that  I  stole, — they  go  to  that  psalm-singin' 
son  of  a  Yankee,"  says  he. 

"  Shut  up,"  says  I,  "  you  're  talking  to  me." 


IO2  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  You  be ,"  says  he.  "  No,  not  that, 

Bill,  you  're  not  so  bad,  I  mean  you  're  a  sea 
man  anyhow,  and  s'  help  me  I  'd  take  you 
for  an  Englishman  (he  thought  this  would 
please  me)  but  Downs  is  a  duffer, — now  you 
know  it.  I  s'pose  he  gets  the  kisses  now." 

"  Say,"  says  I,  "  was  she  an  honest  girl  in 
Plymouth  ?" 

I  was  kind  of  anxious  as  I  asked  this.  I 
don't  know  how  I  thought  't  would  make  a 
difference  to  me. 

"  Honest  enough,"  says  he,  "  for  she  never 
had  heart  enough  to  be  other.  What  's  the 
Captain,  your  captain,  I  mean,  going  to  do 
with  the  lass  ?  " 

"  Oh,  ship  her  off  with  a  load  of  you 
Britishers  on  the  next  prize  we  heave  to, 
maybe." 

He  seemed  satisfied  with  this.  "  I  '11  have 
a  chance  with  her  for  a  while  then,"  says 
he,  grinning — "  without  that  chuckle-headed 
tune-slinger.  I  '11  take  some  of  the  pride  out 
of  her  ;  I  '11  teach  her  to  give  the  go-by  to  a 
British  seaman  for  a  putty-faced  Yankee." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  103 


"Oh,  shut  up,  shut  up,"  says  I,  "and  hark 
you,  mate.  You  '11  speak  of  her  as  a  lady 
while  you  're  aboard  us.  I  '11  back  her  to 
stand  you  off  when  we  part  company." 

We  put  many  of  our  prisoners  aboard  a 
neutral  vessel  that  we  hove  to,  and  the  Cap 
tain  was  for  putting  Nancy  aboard  with 
them.  I  remember  the  scene  when  she  re 
fused  to  go.  "  I  '11  go  in  irons,  no  other 
way,"  says  she.  "You  took  me  out  of  the 
Neptune,  now  you  can  land  me." 

"  But,  lass,"  says  Josh,  for  't  was  he  they 
sent  to  tell  her  the  Captain's  wish,  "  we  're 
bound  to  France." 

"  I  don't  care,"  says  she,  "  I  'd  rather  be 
there  than — Josh,"  she  says,  suddenly, 
"  don't  you  see  it  's  no  place,  that  Portugee 
ship,  for  a  girl  alone,"  she  says,  blushing. 
"  Such  a  mixed  ship's  company  as  that  ? 
Now,  with  you  Yankees  I  'm — well,"  says 
she,  getting  very  red — "  somehow  you  are  n't 
so  rough  as  many  of  our  own  lads."  I 
thought  then  of  young  Joe,  who  was  one 
gf  those  we  'd  put  aboard  the  cartel,  and  \ 


104  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


saw,  or  I  thought  I  saw,  why  she  feared  to 
leave  us. 

Well,  Josh  reported  to  the  officer  of  the 
deck,  and  he  told  the  Captain.  The  upshot 
was  that  she  stayed  aboard.  Captain  Blakely 
saw,  maybe,  the  hard  position  the  lass  would 
be  in,  among  a  raft  of  seamen  from  a  number 
of  crews.  And  he  had  himself  a  young  wife 
at  home  in  Carolina. 

At  L'Orient  she  left  us. 

There  were  many  seamen  felt  as  bad  as  if 
they  'd  really  lost  a  friend.  She  never  failed 
to  say  she  hated  Yankees,  but  old  Josh  would 
tell  her  't  was  all  gammon,  and  she  'd  laugh 
as  though  she  did  n't  mind  what  he  said. 
Of  course,  she  needed  help  when  put  ashore 
— some  one  to  lug  her  chest,  and  do  this  and 
that.  And  of  course  't  was  Jim  Downs  did  it. 

She  looked  at  me  when  she  said  good-by 
to  the  younger  lads,  not  offering  to  shake 
their  hands  that  they  'd  'a'  worked  off,  some 
of  'em,  to  please  her,  but  I  paid  no  attention. 
I  'd  made  my  mind  up  to  it  that  't  was  Jim 
she  liked,  if  she  liked  any  one,  and  maybe 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  105 


not  him.  The  surgeon,  Dr.  Clark,  a  good, 
kind,  and  brave  man,  had  found  a  Danish 
Protestant  minister's  family,  to  take  the  girl 
till  a  chance  came  to  send  her  properly  home, 
and  she  had  money,  quite  a  stack  of  it,  so 
't  was  not  hard  to  find  a  port  for  her. 

Well,  Jim  took  her  chest  on  his  shoulder 
and  she  tossed  us  good-by,  as  I  said,  and  off 
they  went. 

"  There  's  a  nice  way  to  leave  shipmates," 
says  coxswain,  laughing  a  little,  but  as  if  he 
did  n't  see  anything  funny  in  it. 

"  Little  catamaran  !  "  says  I. 

"  Hay,  Bill,"  says  coxswain,  "  I  thought 
you  'n'  she  was  thick." 

"  Not  we,"  says  I. 

"  Well,"  says  bow,  "  I  'm  glad  it  ain't  that 
young  pup  Joe,"  says  he,  "  though  if  it  's 
Downs  instead,  't  is  pup  eat  pup,  six  o'  one 
and  half  dozen  t'other,"  says  he,  "  only  may 
be  't  is  not  Downs.  Listen,  mates,"  he  says, 
"  I  was  splicing  a  rope  on  the  fo'k'sle  the 
night  before  we  sent  the  cartel  off  with  the 
prisoners  aboard,  'T  was  just  light  enough 


io6  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


yet  to  see  my  work  and  I  was  set  on  finishing 
it.  Up  walks  Miss  and  Joe.  I  could  n't 
hear  much  they  said  till  she  got  the  red  flag 
up  and  her  temper  going.  Then  she  says, 
'  'T  aint  you  will  do  it,  anyway/  says  she. 
Then  he  says  something  and  she  laughs  kind 
of  airy  and  says,  '  No,  nor  him,'  and  then  he 
cursed  as  the  boy  could,  the  rough-tongued 
sea-pup,  and  says, '  Then  V  is  Long  Legs  after 
all,  by  thunder ! ' ' 

This  was  a  puzzle  to  me,  for  I  knew  who 
"  Long  Legs  "  meant  well  enough,  but 't  was 
hard  to  guess  what  the  drift  of  the  talk  had 
been.  The  other  lads  knew  nothing  of  the 
name  she  clewed  to  me. 

"  So,  mates,"  says  bow,  "  here  's  a  toss  up 
between  Bill  and  me,  for  we  've  both  long 
legs,  hay,  old  Biddeford  rock-cod,"  says  he, 
and  fetched  me  a  little  kick  as  he  swung  on 
his  oar. 

"  Vast  there,"  says  coxswain,  and  we  were 
soon  alongside  ship. 

We  lay  near  two  months  in  L'Orient.  We 
fitted  the  ship  up  in  every  way,  where  she  'd 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  107 


been  damaged,  and  got  her  into  as  fine  shape 
as  she  ever  was.  Of  course  we  got  liberty 
to  go  about  town  a  bit,  and  one  of  the  first 
things  I  did  was  to  go  to  the  parade-ground 
to  see  the  troops  drill.  We  'd  heard  of 
French  soldiers  for  the  last  twenty  years, 
and  I  wanted  to  see  'em.  But  they  did  n't 
seem  to  me  to  have  much  go  to  'em.  They 
seemed  like  whipped  men,  and  I  found  out 
why.  They  did  n't  like  the  old  figurehead  the 
French,  some  of  'em,  with  English  and  Rus 
sian  and  German  help,  had  set  down  on  the 
throne.  They  wanted  Bony  back  and  small 
wonder. 

The  first  day  I  watched  'em  train  I  saw  a 
trim-built  girl  looking  at  'em  too.  She  seemed 
to  know  most  of  'em,  and  when  they  got  a 
chance  they  'd  nod  to  her  or  speak  a  word. 

As  often  as  I  'd  get  an  hour  ashore  I  'd  go 
to  the  parade-ground  to  watch  the  soldiers, 
and  this  girl  was  there  each  time.  One  day 
I  went  with  Josh.  The  old  man  spoke  a  kind 
of  lingo  that  Munseer  understood  ;  Josh  said 
't  was  French,  and  I  says  to  him  : 


io8  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  Find  out  who  the  lass  is." 

Well,  he  goes  right  up  to  her,  passes  a 
word  or  two  of  "  How  d'  ye  do,"  or  "  Fine 
day,"  maybe,  then  begins  to  go  ahead  under 
full  sail,  and  she  chips  in  pretty  soon  and 
answers  back  to  him,  and  they  laugh  and 
talk  and  are  very  sociable.  By  and  by 
Josh  comes  back,  gets  me,  and  hauls  me 
over.  He  said  a  few  words,  and  she  curt 
seyed  and  smiled  very  pleasant,  then  Josh 
and  she  began  again. 

While  we  were  talking  who  heaves  in  sight 
but  Jim  and  Nancy.  She  was  still  waiting 
for  a  fit  chance  to  get  across  the  Channel. 
They  pretended  not  to  see  Josh  and  me  at 
first,  but  I  saw  they — that  is,  Nancy,  kept 
edging  our  way  slowly,  and  they  came  up 
with  us  at  last,  as  the  French  girl  left  us  to 
cross  the  ground  to  some  soldiers  who  had 
broke  ranks  and  gathered  in  a  knot.  All  this 
time  I  had  no  idea  who  the  girl  was. 

Josh  had  kept  the  lingo  going,  but  I  could 
n't  understand.  Now  Nancy  comes  up  and 
Jim. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  109 


"  Well,  Josh,"  says  she,  quite  pleasant, 
giving  him  her  hand,  "  who  is  your  pretty 
friend  ?  " 

"  Oh,"  says  Josh,  laughing,  "  it  's  a  young 
lady  who  belonged  to  the  army,  just  as  you 
did  to  the  navy  before  you  deserted.  She  's 
been  the  vivandeer  of  the  Tenth  Regiment 
that  's  here  now,  in  Bony's  time,  and  now 
she  's  out  of  her  job.  Bill,  here,  asked  me 
to  introduce  him,  so  of  course  I  did." 

"  Oh,"  says  she,  looking  at  me  very  hard, 
"  't  was  Mr.  William,  was  it,  and  how  do  you 
do  these  days  ?  " 

"  Oh,  all  right,"  says  I,  "  and  much  better 
for  seeing  you  again." 

Now  I  said  this  for  sauce.  I  thought  she 
was  going  to  rake  me,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  to  fire  back.  But  what  I  said  did  n't 
seem  to  worry  her.  In  fact,  she  acted  as  if 
she  liked  it. 

"  Why,"  says  she,  "  you  can  say  civil 
things,  too,  can't  you,  Mr.  Bill  ?  "  as  if  't  was 
I  had  been  anything  but  decent  to  her. 

"  Well,  Miss,"  says  I,  "  I  can,  I  hope,  and 


no  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


if  you  '11  kindly  furl  the  Mr.,  and  just  call 
me  Bill,  I  '11  take  it  very  kind." 

"  What  did  you  say  the  girl  was  ?  "  she 
asked  Josh  again,  not  answering  me. 

"  A  vivandeer,"  says  Josh. 

"  And  what  may  that  be  ?  " 

"  Why,  one  as  goes  along  with  the  regi 
ment  and  gives  'em  a  drink  during  the  fight 
— a  little  Dutch  courage,  perhaps,  or  maybe 
only  water,"  says  Josh.  "  They  wear  a  kind 
of  uniform  like  the  men." 

"  What,  breeches  ?  "  says  Jim. 

"  Something  like,  my  hearty." 

"  It  don't  seem  right  nor  decent,"  says 
Jim. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  if  they  Ve  the  pluck  to 
go  among  the  bullets  to  help  the  poor  fel 
lows  who  are  down,  I  don't  care  if  they  do 
wear  breeches,"  says  I. 

Nancy  looked  at  me  quite  friendly.  "  Bill," 
says  she,  "  you  're  not  such  a  fool  as  you 
might  be,"  says  she,  then  as  she  walked  away 
with  Jim,  who  looked  as  if  he  'd  said  the 
wrong  thing,  she  calls  back : 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  1 1 1 


"  Seems  to  me  I  'd  come  and  see  old 
friends." 

Old  friends !  'T  was  an  odd  title  to  give 
for  what  she  'd  been  to  me,  but  I  allowed  to 
go  the  first  chance  that  came. 

My  shore  leaves  were  not  so  frequent  nor 
so  long  as  I  wished  'em  to  be  after  this.  I 
used  to  wonder  what  kept  Nancy  in  L'Orient 
all  this  time.  Several  times  she  might  have 
gone  home,  direct  to  Plymouth  too,  but 
there  she  stayed.  She  lived  in  the  Danish 
parson's  family,  and  there  was  a  daughter 
about  her  age  who  followed  her  about  and 
seemed  to  like  her.  Nancy  told  Josh  she 
was  alone  in  the  world  since  her  father's 
death,  and  was  minded  to  see  it  a  bit.  Our 
ship's  doctor  once  in  awhile  would  visit  her 
and  talk  with  her  about  what  to  do.  Once 
he  talked  with  me  for  a  spell,  of  Jim  Downs, 
what  kind  of  a  lad  he  was,  and  all  that.  I 
gave  Downs  as  good  a  name  as  I  could  by  a 
little  lying.  "  He  was  sober  and  industrious, 
when  he  lived  at  home,"  I  said,  "  and  sang 
in  a  church  choir,  too,"  says  I.  I  guessed 


1 1 2  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


at  the  time  he  thought  Jim  was  what  kept 
Nancy  so  long  in  port.  That  's  what  I 
thought  myself,  and  so  did  Jim. 

Well,  I  saw  the  lass,  maybe  half  a  dozen 
times  before  we  sailed.  She  used  to  watch 
the  drills  sometimes,  and  one  day  I  saw  her 
talk  a  long  time  in  her  broken  French  which 
she  'd  picked  up,  with  the  "  vivandeer."  This 
was  the  last  day  I  had  shore  leave.  It  hap 
pened  Jim  was  not  with  her  that  day.  I 
learned  why,  later  on.  We  had  got  to  be 
good  friends,  and  she  told  me  she  'd  been  to 
Bideford  in  England,  that  my  town  was 
called  for.  We  were  talking  of  this  and 
that,  I  don't  recall  what,  now,  because  I  only 
talked  so  I  could  have  some  reason  to  be  by 
her,  and  so  long  as  I  heard  her  voice  I  did  n't 
much  mind  what  she  said  so  it  was  friendly. 
'T  was  true  I  was  hard  hit,  but  as  for  her  I 
did  n't  believe  she  cared  a  brass  farthing  for 
me.  At  last.  I  had  to  say  something  with 
sense  to  it,  that  is,  something  to  the  point. 

"  It  's  time  for  me  to  be  at  the  wharf," 
says  I,  "  the  coxswain  's  not  a  good  hand  to 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  113 


wait,  and  the  third  officer  's  ashore,  too,  and 
he  '11  not  wait,  if  coxswain  would.  I  must 
be  saying  good-by,  Miss — Miss " 

"  Nancy,"  says  she,  in  a  queer  voice. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Nancy,"  says  I,  thinking  she 
was  prompting  me,  "  maybe  we  may  meet 
some  time  again." 

"  'T  aint  likely,"  says  she,  looking  at  me  in 
a  way  I  could  n't  understand.  "  Maybe 
you  '11  be  ashore  to-morrow  again — if  you 
don't  sail  till  day  after?  " 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  't  is  the  last  leave  I  '11  get. 
There  will  be  some  ashore  to-morrow  to  get 
supplies  and  more  water,  but  that  's  in  the 
purser's  line.  He  '11  have  Jim  ashore,  likely," 
says  I,  looking  at  her  very  close. 

"  Indeed,"  she  says,  very  lofty,  and  it 
made  me  feel  uncomfortable.  I  'm  not 
altogether  a  fool  about  women,  and  I  know 
when  a  man  's  been  keeping  steady  company 
with  a  girl  like  Nancy,  and  suddenly  when 
it  comes  time  to  part,  she  acts  so  haughty, 
it  means  most  generally  that  he  's  riot  come 
up  to  time,  as  the  saying  is,  and  thinks  I, 


H4  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  she  's  angry  with  the  lad  and  maybe  will 
ing  to  be  civil  to  you,  Bill,  but  don't  you  be 
a  fool,  mate." 

So  says  I,  "  Yes,  Jim  '11  be  ashore,  and — 
and — yes,  he  '11  be  ashore,"  says  I,  quite  red, 
for  I  reckon  't  was  harder  for  me  to  hold  my 
luff  than  I  thought,  "and  good-by,  Miss " 

"  Nancy,"  she  says  again,  and  looking  half 
vexed  and  hah"  amused,  and  if  so  there  could 
be  another  half,  half  sorry — "  Miss  Nancy," 
says  I,  again,  though  I  saw  no  reason  for  her 
to  be  prompting  me,  and  took  her  hand  and 
she  gave  me  a  good  grip  like  the  brave  girl 
she  was,  and  I  left  her. 


CHAPTER  V. 

HOW  NANCY  BARKER  SHIPPED  ABOARD   THE 
"  WASP." 

JVTEXT  day  of  course  there  were  men 
ashore  getting  water,  getting  supplies 
of  the  kind  that  you  must  have  fresh  and 
can't  stow  away  a  week  ahead  of  sailing ;  and 
as  I  guessed,  Jim  was  ashore  most  o'  the  day. 
'T  was  dark  when  the  last  boat  came  out, 
crowded  with  seamen  and  baskets  of  fresh 
vegetables  and  several  casks  of  water. 

Jim  was  aboard  by  then.  He  had  n't 
stayed  till  the  last  boat  and  it  riled  me  to  see 
him  waste  time  he  might  have  had  on  shore, 
lying  round  the  ship,  for  he  did  nothing  but 
sit  about  and  look  sulky.  And  he  might  ha' 
been  seeing  Nancy,  and  would  ha'  been,  had 
he  been  a  man,  thinks  I.  At  last  I  up  to 
him  and  says : 

"5 


u6  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"Jim,  if  I  'd  been  you,  I  'd  been  saying 
good-by  to  that  pretty  little  craft  over  in 
the  town  that  you  Ve  been  convoying  so 
much  lately." 

"You  mind  your  business,  Bill." 

"  Well,  well,  mate,  don't  be  so  cocky.  I 
meant  no  offence — but — 't  is  truth  I  tell  you, 
I  think  she  was  expecting  something  of  the 
kind." 

"  What  do  you  mean,"  says  he,  looking  at 
me  close — "you  're  trying  to  crow  over  me," 
says  he,  very  low,  "  but  damn  you,  big  as  you 
are  I  won't  take  it." 

Well,  of  all  wrong-headed  sea  calves  !  "  See 
here,  mate,"  says  I,  "  I  meant  friendly,  and 
there  's  the  end.  I  don't  understand  your 
signals  and  you  can't  read  mine,  so  let  's 
stand  away,"  and  with  that  I  left  him.  What 
he  meant,  to  save  my  life  I  could  n't  tell. 
And  't  was  just  about  then  that  the  last  boat's 
crew  came  climbing  over  the  side. 

Next  day  we  sailed,  and  oh  't  was  good  to 
be  off  once  more.  If  the  cruise  was  exciting 
before,  it  was  doubly  so  now.  For  we  knew 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  117 


that  John  was  looking  for  us,  and  his  bull 
dogs  would  be  on  the  watch.  But  we  knew 
our  ship  and  the  speed  that  was  in  her,  and 
we  knew  our  crew  and  thehandiness  of  them 
and  the  Captain's  cool  nerve  and  pluck ;  and 
speed,  and  skill,  and  spirit  man  a  cruiser  as 
it  should  be  manned. 

We  'd  taken  a  few  new  men  in  port,  from 
a  couple  of  privateers  that  lay  there.  Good 
keen  fellows  they  were  too,  but  with  their 
noses  in  the  wind  for  Indiamen  all  the  time. 
Lots  of  fight  in  'em,  but  greedy  dogs. 
'T  was  one  of  these,  the  second  day  after 
sailing,  suddenly  shouts  out : 

"  Here  's  a  stowaway  by  thunder,  and  a 
lass  too,"  and  a  half  dozen  men  ran  to  the 
spot. 

Back  from  behind  some  bales  and  barrels 
in  the  waist  of  the  ship  who  comes  out,  pale 
and  covered  with  dust,  with  her  hair  fallen 
down  her  back,  dressed  in  a  kind  of  boy's 
togs,  but  Nancy  Barker  ! 

'T  was  a  strange  sight — I  never  saw  the 
like.  The  men  were  nonplussed — some 


ii$  Will  o' the  Wasp 


laughed  a  little,  then  eyed  each  other,  then 
looked  at  me,  or  for  some  one  else.  Josh 
goes  right  up  to  her,  and  she  put  her  head 
on  his  shoulder  and  sobbed. 

"  Room  here,  lads,"  says  the  old  man,  look 
ing  round,  "  give  the  lass  air  and  leave  us 
two." 

The  men  drew  away  pretty  quiet — they 
seemed  to  think  there  was  something  in  th° 
wind.  'T  was  not  old  Josh  the  poor  girl  had 
followed  off  to  sea,  and  I  said  to  myself,  "  if 
there  's  harm  been  done,  I  '11  wring  Jim's 
neck  on  the  chance  of  being  right,  if  I  'm 
run  to  the  yard-arm  for  it."  And  some  of 
the  men,  the  older  ones,  gave  me  strange 
looks  as  I  went  by  to  the  deck. 

What  the  lass  told  Josh  I  did  n't  hear  but 
half  of,  not  till  long  after.  The  officer  of  the 
deck  heard  what  was  going,  at  once,  and 
ordered  the  lass  on  deck,  but  the  boat 
swain  says  a  word  in  his  ear,  and  he  listened, 
looking  very  grave  and  angry,  and  then 
says  he : 

"  Have  the  lass  and  Sewall,  and  Downs, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  119 


and  Fry  to  the  ward-room  at  eight  bells,"  says 
he.  Boatswain  passed  the  word  to  me  and 
by  and  by  to  Josh  when  he  came  on  deck. 

I  went  up  to  him  and  he  took  me  by  the 
arm.  Says  he,  "  Bill,  you  're  a  good  lad,  but 
what  a  fool  you  always  was,"  says  he. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  what  's  this  to  do  with 
Nancy  being  aboard  the  Wasp  ?  " 

"  Well,"  he  says,  "  nothing  that  I  know  of," 
and  then  he  laughs.  I  was  glad  to  hear  him 
laugh,  for  I  knew  then  no  harm  had  been 
done,  so  far  as  he  could  know.  "  Well," 
says  I,  "  you  and  me  and  Jim  Downs  and 
Nancy  go  to  court  this  afternoon." 

"  So  be  it,"  says  he,  "  you  '11  hear  a  funny 
story  then,  mate." 

Well,  at  eight  bells  in  we  go  to  the  ward 
room.  Nancy,  who  had  been  put  in  her  old 
cabin,  still  wore  her  boy's  rig.  'T  was  not 
exactly  a  boy's  rig ;  't  was  breeches  and 
skirt,  jacket  and  cap  ;  the  skirt  came  to  the 
knees  like  a  long  coat.  She  was  still  pale, 
but  Lord  bless  me  she  had  had  only  a  drop 
to  drink  and  a  bite  since  she  came  aboard, 


I2O  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


and  small  wonder  she  looked  white.  But  she 
had  her  spirit  back  again,  and  had  got  her 
self  up  with  a  ribbon  to  her  collar,  and  spoke 
to  Jim,  and  paid  little  attention  to  me,  just 
like  old  times. 

In  the  ward-room  was  the  Captain,  very 
grave,  and  with  him  the  Chaplain,  the  Sur 
geon,  and  Mr.  Tillinghast,  who  was  officer 
of  the  deck  when  Nancy  was  found,  and  Mr. 
Baury,  the  third  officer. 

"  When  did  you  come  aboard  ?  "  says  the 
Captain,  slowly,  looking  at  Nancy  in  a  sort 
of  pitying  way. 

"  Last  night,  your  honor." 

"  On  the  last  boat  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Baury,  you  were  with  that  boat  ?  " 

"  I  was,  Captain." 

"  How  could  this  girl  get  aboard  without 
your  seeing  her?" 

"  Well,  sir,  't  was  dark  and  the  boat  was 
full  of  bales  and  baggage.  She  is  in  men's 
clothes,  in  a  fashion,  and  I  daresay  she  was 
hid  in  the  boat  before  I  came  aboard." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  121 


"  I  was,  your  honor,"  says  Nancy,  quite 
simple  like. 

"  You  wait  till  the  Captain  asks  you  ques 
tions,  lass,"  says  old  Josh. 

"  What  was  your  reason  for  coming 
aboard  ?  "  says  the  Chaplain. 

"  One  minute,"  says  Captain  Blakely,  and 
leaned  over  and  said  something  to  him. 
They  both  seemed  troubled  and  embar 
rassed,  and  presently  the  Chaplain  asked 
her  a  different  question. 

"  Have  you  any  complaint  against  any  of 
the  crew,  Miss  Nancy?" 

"Ah,"  thinks  I,  "  he  has  come  to  it."  She 
spoke  up  very  bold  and  firm  and  looked  him 
in  the  eye. 

"  No,  sir,"  she  says,  short  and  proud. 

"  Well,"  says  the  Captain,  smiling,  and  sit 
ting  back  as  if  a  load  was  off  his  heart,  "  why 
did  you  come  aboard,  my  lass  ?  This  is  no 
place  for  women.  We  're  not  a  packet  ship, 
but  a  cruiser.  I  can't  be  running  into  port 
to  land  you  again,  and  it  may  be  weeks  be 
fore  I  can  put  you  aboard  a  vessel  bound  to 
your  own  home." 


122  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


Nancy  hung  her  head  and  seemed  a  bit 
taken  aback.  Then  suddenly  Josh  pulled 
his  fore  top-knot  and  says  : 

"  If  you  please,  Captain,  the  lass,  because 
I  guess  I  'm  old  enough  to  be  her  grandad, 
has  told  me  somewhat  about  why  she  came 
aboard,  if  so  be  I  may  speak  my  knowledge 
about  it  to  your  honor." 

"  Go  on,  Josh,"  says  the  Captain,  good 
naturedly. 

"  Well,  sir,  it  *s  this  way.  She  used  to  see 
the  vivandeer " 

"  The  what  ?  "  says  the  Captain. 

"  The  vivandeer,  sir ;  the  lass  as  carries  the 
brandy  and  stingo  about  for  the  Frenchmen 
in  their  marches  and  fights." 

"The  vivan  de  yare"  says  the  Surgeon 
back  of  his  hand  to  Captain. 

"  Well,  sir,  she  's  naturally  fond  of  the  sea, 
and  she  'd  got  used  to  the  Wasp,  and  knew 
she  was  a  fighter,  and  had  a  top-rate  set  of 
officers,  including  chaplain  and  surgeon," 
says  Josh,  who  was  as  sly  as  an  Irishman 
and  always  a  hand  to  joke. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  123 


They  were  all  laughing  by  this  time.  The 
old  man  was  a  kind  of  pet  aboard  himself. 

"  So,"  says  Josh,  "  she  guessed  she  'd  come 
aboard  and  sign  as  'vivandeer,'  and  so  she 
got  her  uniform  and  just  came  aboard.  And 
that  's  the  yarn,  please  your  honors." 

"  But,"  says  the  Surgeon,  trying  to  look 
sober,  "  what 's  your  people  to  do  at  home  ?  " 

"  I  'm  alone  in  the  world,"  says  she,  very 
simple. 

"  But,"  says  the  Surgeon  again,  "you  '11  be 
fighting  against  your  own  home." 

"  I  '11  do  no  fighting,"  says  she.  "  'T  is 
not  fighting  to  give  lads  their  grog  and  pass 
'em  a  cup  of  water  in  action,  surely.  And 
then  you  're  like  my  people,  too,"  says  she. 
"  I  thought  once  Yankees  were  all  niggers, 
or  yellow  men,  or  red  Indians,  but  you  look 
like  Englishmen,  and  there  's  some  of  you 
with  Devon  names  too,"  says  she. 

Well,  every  one  laughed  at  this,  and  we 
were  all  dismissed  but  Josh.  He  knew  some 
thing  that  he  did  n't  tell  us,  and  I  made  up 
my  mind  he  was  kept  to  be  questioned 


124  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


further.  I  overheard  the  Surgeon  and  Chap 
lain  talking,  later  that  day,  as  I  was  aft  on 
duty,  and  one  says,  "  That 's  the  man  "  ; — 
whom  he  meant  I  did  n't  know.  Then 
Chaplain  says  a  little  later,  "  But  she  's  an 
odd  pet  to  have  aboard,"  and  Doctor 
says,  "  As  safe  with  this  ship's  company  as 
if  she  were  at  home."  And  I  knew  they 
were  talking,  then,  of  Nancy  Barker. 

Jim  Downs  all  the  time  we  were  before 
the  Captain,  had  hung  his  head  as  if  he 
did  n't  care  what  was  said  or  what  came,  but 
when  Josh  said  the  girl  wanted  to  be  a 
vivandeer  and  she  backed  it  up  in  the  way 
she  did,  he  looked  sort  of  surprised,  and 
then  seemed  to  cheer  up  a  good  deal.  When 
we  all  went  fonvard  again  he  and  Nancy 
struck  up  just  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 

Josh  came  forward  pretty  soon,  and  he  got 
such  men  as  he  could  about  and  made  a 
little  speech.  Says  he  : 

"  Messmates,  Nancy  Barker  has  calculated 
to  ship  with  us  as  a  '  vivandeer.' ' 

"  Say  it  again,  Josh." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  125 


"  Hold  your  jaw,  Ben.  You  know  what  I 
mean — the  lass  who  gets  their  grog  for  the 
lads  in  action,  same  as  the  Frenchmen  have, 
or  used  to  have,  anyway,  in  their  regiments. 
Now  she 's  as  honest  a  girl  as  lives,  and  who 
ever  says  no,  or  acts  toward  her  as  if  she 
wa'  n't,  has  got  to  lick  Josh  Sewall " 

Here  the  crowd  stamped  and  clapped — 
"  Or  Bill  Fry— hay,  Bill  ?  " 

"  Why  yes,  mate,  of  course,"  says  I. 

The  crowd  stamped  again.  "  And  Jim 
Downs,"  says  Josh,  with  a  wink,  and  the 
crowd  fairly  yelled. 

"  Maybe,"  Josh  went  on,  "  she  won't  find 
much  occupation,  as  the  office  of  '  vivan- 
deer '  ain't  been  much  as  yet  in  the  Ameri 
can  navy,  but  I  presume  she  will  help  in  her 
way.  Maybe,"  says  the  old  man  with  a 
chuckle,  "  she  can  be  a  mother  to  you 
younger  ones,  a  sister  to  some — and,"  sud 
denly  getting  quite  hot,  "  she  '11  be  a  daugh 
ter  to  me,  and  every  mother's  son  of  you 
will  treat  her  as  if  she  were,  by  the  Lord. 
She  makes  but  one  cruise  with  us,  for  the 


126  Will  o'the  Wasp 


Captain  thinks  she  must  go  ashore  when  we 
get  home,  and  maybe  she  '11  adopt  the 
country,  and  maybe  she  '11  annex  one  of 
Columbia's  son's." 

He  winked  at  me  when  he  said  this,  and 
some  of  the  lads  laughed.  I  could  n't  un 
derstand  the  old  man's  ways,  and  I  did  n't 
understand  him  when  he  clapped  me  over 
the  back,  as  he  got  off  the  keg  he'd  been 
standing  on,  and  says :  "  Billy,  my  boy,  you  're 
a  comfort  to  your  mother,  I  guess  not,  but 
you  don't  know  beans  with  the  bag  wide 
open,"  says  he. 

"  Lookee  here,  mate,"  says  I,  "  you  're  too 
old  to  be  running  free  across  me  that  way," 
says  I,  and  he  laughed  again,  like  to  split. 

All  next  day  I  did  my  best  to  get  along 
side  Nancy,  but  't  was  no  use.  She  was  n't 
just  as  short  and  peppery  with  me  as  she 
was  at  first,  but  't  was  "  stand  off  and  don't 
come  too  close,"  in  her  way  of  acting. 

It  seemed  to  me,  when  she  said  good-by 
in  L'Onent,  that  she  was  sorry  to  see  the 
last  of  me,  yet  now  when  she  was  where  she 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  127 


could  see  me  every  day  she  did  n't  care  a 
ship's  biscuit  for  my  company.  So  the 
fourth  day  out  of  port,  I  kept  my  distance 
and  dropped  back  on  my  plan  of  not  speak 
ing  to  her.  She  reminded  me  of  some 
skippers  I  'd  seen,  mighty  nice  to  you  till 
you  shipped  and  went  aboard,  and  tartars 
once  they  got  you  in  the  fo'k'sle.  "  She 
shan't  stand  off  and  on  this  way  with  you 
any  longer,  Bill,"  says  I  to  me,  and  so  I  kept 
my  course  and  gave  her  sea  room. 

Well,  she  did  n't  like  that.  She  could  n't 
see  how  I  could  let  her  alone,  I  suppose,  and 
wanted  to  find  out.  So  by  and  by  she  comes 
up  to  me. 

"  How  did  you  like  me  in  the  vivandeyare 
dress  ?  "  says  she.  She  'd  got  another  kind 
rigged  up  by  this  time. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  "  I  can't  rightly  say  that  I 
liked  you  in  it ;  't  is  well  enough  for  a  French 
girl  maybe,  but  to  come  among  a  ship's  crew 
of  Americans,  why — " 

"  Why,  it  shocks  you  I  suppose,"  says  she, 
laughing. 


128  Will  o'the  Wasp 


"  Well,  yes,"  says  I,  "  I  can't  say  it 
does  n't, — you  see,  we  're  not  used  to  that  at 
home." 

"  Tell  me  about  where  you  live,"  says  she, 
suddenly  jumping  onto  the  bulwarks,  by  the 
foreshrouds,  and  paying  no  attention  to  what 
I  'd  been  saying,  though  I  thought  't  would 
anger  her  maybe. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  't  is  a  town,  as  you  know, 
called  Biddeford." 

"  Oh,  blast  the  town,"  says  she  in  her  free 
way,  "  tell  me  about  your  home  —  any 
sisters  ?  " 

"  One,"  says  I,  "  married,  and  gone  away 
from  home." 

"  Well,  that  's  good,"  says  she — I  stared, 
and  she  blushed  suddenly  all  across  her 
face. 

"  I  mean  that  's  good — it  's  right  for  a  girl 
to  marry  if  she  gets  a  good  husband,  aint  it, 
Will  ?  "  says  she. 

'T  was  the  first  time  she  'd  called  me  that 
name,  and  I  liked  the  ring  of  it.  "  Well,  yes, 
I  guess  so,"  says  I. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  Do  you  only  guess,"  says  she,  "  can't  you 
ever  be  sure,  I  wonder  ?  " 

I  laughed  at  her — she  was  so  saucy  and 
trim  sitting  there  on  the  bulwarks.  "  Well," 
says  I 

"  Do  you  ever  open  your  mouth  without 
dropping  out  a  well,"  says  she,  laughing  at 
me. 

«  Well " 

"  There  you  go  again." 

"  Miss,"  says  I,  "  do  you  want  me  to  an 
swer  questions  you  put  to  me  or  to  just  stand 
here  and  fool?"  says  I,  half  pleased  and  half 
riled. 

"  What  question  did  I  ask  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  it  wa'  n't  right  for  a  lass  to 
marry  if  so  be  she  gets  the  right  man  ?  " 

"  I  remember  now — What 's  your  answer  ?  " 

"  I  say  yes,  but  I  say  she  does  n't  always 
get  the  right  man." 

"  Then  it  's  his  fault,  perhaps,"  eying  me 
very  close. 

I  did  n't  suppose  there  was  anything  in 
the  wind  ;  it  seemed  to  me  that  she  was  just 


130  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


using  up  her  time  by  taking  mine,  and 
rattling  away  at  no  target  at  all.  So  I  says : 

"  No,  not  the  man's  fault  that  I  can  see," 
says  I.  "  She  might  be  just  the  wrong  girl 
for  the  right  man,  maybe,  and  you  can't 
blame  him  for  sheering  off  or  running  away," 
says  I. 

She  got  very  red  and  was  quiet  a  minute. 
Then  she  says  slowly  : 

"  Tell  me,  do  you  think  I  came  aboard  to, 
to  follow  Jim  Downs?"  She  was  very  red 
and  would  n't  look  me  in  the  face. 

"Why,  no,"  says  I,  slowly — "I,  I  guess 
not,  I " 

"  D'  you  mean  to  guess  about  that,"  she 
cried,  very  angry  and  looking  now  right  into 
my  lights.  "  Don't  you  guess  about  such 
things,  you  thick-headed  Yankee,"  she  says. 
"  I  Ve  wasted  time  enough  on  you,  God 
knows.  The  only  man  that  is  a  man  in  the 
ship's  crew  is  Josh,"  she  says ;  "  he  's  got 
head,  and  heart,  and  aint  all  arms  and  legs 
and  blasted  guess-work,"  she  says,  falling 
into  rough  language,  which  she  always  did 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  131 


when  angry.  "  And  you  think  I  'd  follow — 
Oh,  I  Ve  no  more  time  to  waste  on  you," 
says  she,  almost  crying,  and  jumps  down  and 
walks  away. 

I  was  too  surprised  and  flustered  to  do 
much  more  than  go  on  splicing  the  rope  I 
was  at.  "Well,  well,"  thinks  I,  "if  she 
was  n't  following  Jim  who  was  she?  "  And 
she  would  n't  ha'  been  so  angry  if  he  had  n't 
had  something  to  do  in  the  matter.  But 
there  's  one  thing  I  don't  believe,"  says  I  to 
me,  "  and  that  is  that  there  's  anything  wrong 
between  the  two — She  's  honest  is  Nancy — 
if  any  girl  I  ever  saw  was — I  '11  talk  to  old 
Josh,"  thinks  I,  "  and  take  a  few  soundings 
so  I  shan't  go  aground  with  the  lass  again  as 
I  did  just  now.  Maybe  I  'm  a  blasted  fool," 
says  I  to  me.  Just  why  I  felt  that  way  I 
can't  say  for  my  life.  But  I  was  beginning 
to  get  the  feeling  on  me. 

I  'd  a  good  enough  opinion  of  myself.  I 
was  a  tall  figure  of  a  man,  with  good  teeth,  I 
did  n't  chew,  and  a  plenty  of  light  hair  and 
blue  eyes.  Lindy  seemed  to  like  me  and  it 


132  Will  o'  the  Wasp. 


did  n't  seem  strange  to  me.  But  that  was 
because  I  did  n't  care  so  very  much,  I  guess, 
for  Lindy.  Now  I  'd  a  been  willing  to  give  a 
hand  for  this  girl  Nancy,  if  I  had  n't  kept 
myself  down  by  telling  myself  't  was  no  use, 
and  getting  help  in  the  job  by  the  way  she 
treated  me.  And  as  I  felt  so  for  her,  so  it 
seemed  to  me  that  it  would  be  impossible 
for  her  to  care  for  me.  I  was  the  sort  that 
looks  on  the  dark  side  of  things  in  which  his 
heart  is  'listed,  and  that  's  the  whole  story. 

As  I  sat  pretty  glum  and  quiet,  puttering 
away  at  my  job,  by  comes  Nancy  again. 
She  carried  her  head  high  and  came  along 
like  a  breeze.  She  was  n't  going  to  notice 
me,  but  I  got  up  and  touched  my  cap 

"  Excuse  me,  Miss,"  says  I,  "  but  I  want 
to  say  that  I  don't  think  there  's  anything 
wrong  between  you  and  Jim  Downs  and  I  '11 
lick  the  swab  who  dares  think  so,  out  loud," 
says  I,  "  or  to  himself,  if  I  know  of  it." 

She  looked  at  me  in  a  strange  way — I  was 
going  to  say  my  little  speech  over  again, 
thinking  she  had  n't  understood  me,  when 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  133 


she  blushed,  leaned  against  the  side  of  the 
ship,  and  put  her  hand  to  her  throat. 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say  that  any  one  dares 
think  so,"  she  says  at  last  quite  low. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  "  't  would  not  be  very 
strange  maybe." 

"  My  God  !  "  says  she,  "  it  never  came  to 
my  mind  till  now." 

She  looked  over  the  side  of  the  ship  and  I 
could  see  her  sobbing.  I  could  n't  stand 
that  and  I  went  up  to  her.  "  Miss  Nancy," 
says  I,  and  she  turned  en  me 

"  So  you  don't  believe  there  was  anything 
wrong,"  says  she  laughing,  though  her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears,  "  well,  you  're  a  good  char 
itable  soul,  Mr.  Will,"  says  she,  "  but  don't 
bother  to  be  championing  me,"  says  she, 
"  I  '11  look  after  my  own  good  name.  Still 
I  'm  obliged  to  you,"  says  she,  "  for  your 
good  opinion."  So  she  tacked  and  stood  off 
and  left  me,  sure  I  'd  made  things  worse  than 
before  for  Bill  Fry. 

As  soon  as  I  got  the  chance  I  ran  along 
side  Josh. 


134  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  Josh,"  I  says,  "  Nancy  talks  to  you  as  if 
you  were  a  sort  of  guard een — Now  can  you 
tell  me  why  she  always  gets  on  my  weather 
quarter  and  fires  into  me?  Is  it  anything 
I  Ve  done  ?  " 

"  Nothing  you  Ve  done,"  says  the  old  bird, 
laughing,  "  mebbe  something  you  Ve  left 
undone,"  says  he. 

"  Talk  plain,  matey,"  says  I,  "  what  's  in 
the  wind  ?  " 

"Your  sails,  you  lubber,"  says  he,  as  if  he 
were  half  angry,  "  your  sails,  a-flapping ; 
what  have  you  been  saying  to  her  this  morn- 
ing?" 

I  told  him  what  I  said  and  he  all  but  took 
me  by  the  collar.  "  You  damn  thick-head," 
says  he — "  So  you  had  to  insult  her  as  well 
as " 

"  Come  now,  Josh,"  I  says,  "  none  of  that 
talk." 

"  You  hear  me  out,"  says  he,  very  angry — • 
"  I  '11  tell  you  something,  you  blind  sculpin." 

"  Don't  call  names,"  says  I. 

"  I  '11  call  you  all  I  want,"  says  he,  "  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  135 


you  '11  take  'em,  for  by  the  Lord  Harry 
you  Ve  earned  'em  all — Listen  to  me,  you, 
Bill  Fry — I  'm  going  to  tell  you  what  I  Ve 
no  right  to,  maybe,  but  blast  me  I  can't  let 
things  snarl  up  this  way.  If  you  can't  see 
things  yourself  I  '11  be  your  eyes,"  says  he, 
very  hot. 

"  Well,  go  on  when  you  get  your  breath," 
says  I,  cool,  but  angry  by  now,  and  he  looked 
at  me  and  wagged  his  head. 

"  Oh,  Bill,  Bill,"  he  says,  and  laughs  of  a 
sudden,  "  you  '11  be  the  death  of  me." 

"  Look  here,  Josh,"  says  I,  "  get  your  jaw 
tackle  running  to  rights,  mate,  I  Ve  no  time 
to  stand  here  all  the  morning." 

"  You  're  mad  now,"  says  Josh,  "  as  I 
meant  you  should  be,  for  Bill,  when  you  're 
mad  your  brain  clears  up  a  bit.  You  're  too 
lazy  to  think  much  when  you  're  in  good 
humor,  my  lad,  my  lad — that  's  the  fact. 
Now  just  keep  it  up,  you  dull  hearted  skate, 
that  's  right,  keep  mad,  I  want  you  to  ;  but 
listen " 

What  Josh  was   going  to  say  I  did  n't 


136  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


know,  but  just  as  he  said  "  listen,"  as  if  it 
were  what  he  meant,  lookout  sang  high  and 
clear :  "  Sail  ho — sail  ho — sail  on  the  weather 
quarter."  Then  in  a  moment,  "  Sail  ho,  sail 
ho,  sail  dead  ahead." 

Of  course  every  one  was  looking  alive  at 
once,  and  sure  enough,  off  to  our  weather 
quarter,  to  the  weather  beam  and  almost  due 
ahead  were  sails.  Why,  't  was  a  fleet.  Every 
man  was  alert  again  with  the  old  spirit.  We 
were  game  to  fight  or  make  prizes,  come 
whichever  luck  was  to  be. 

In  two  hours  we  found  it  was  not  to  be 
our  fortune  to  make  the  string  of  prizes  we 
thought  we  should,  and  not  to  fight  either. 
'T  was  a  convoy  of  ten  sail,  and  the  convoy 
was  a  74-gun  ship.  And  yet  Captain  Blakely, 
like  the  man  he  was,  made  chase. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

HOW  WE  TEASED  THE  "ARMADA"  AND 
SUNK  THE  "AVON." 

Y\7  HEN  I  say  made  chase  of  course  I  don't 
mean  that  he  intended  getting  too 
close  to  the  74,  which  we  afterwards  found 
was  the  Armada.  But  he  meant  to  hang 
about  the  convoy  and  pick  out  a  fat  prize  if 
the  chance  befell. 

I  Ve  watched  a  butcher's  dog,  't  was  a 
brindled  terrier  I  recollect,  pick  a  cow  out  of 
a  lot  of  cattle  with  an  old  bull  at  their  head. 
For  some  time  they  stood  him  off,  huddling 
up  in  a  crowd  with  their  bows  towards  him, 
and  then  the  bull  would  come  charging 
around  and  drive  the  pup  off.  But  he  stuck 
to  it,  and  kept  chivvying  and  worrying,  till 
by  and  by  he  cuts  out  a  heifer  and  off  they 
go.  When  he  'd  got  her  far  enough  out  the 
137 


138  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


drove  he  'd  pin  her  by  the  nose  till  his 
master  came  up.  And  this  is  what  Captain 
Blakely  did  with  the  merchant  fleet. 

Lying  off  to  windward  and  astern,  he  'd 
edge  up  and  up,  then  of  a  sudden  clap  on 
canvas,  and  stand  for  the  nearest  sail ;  and 
she  'd  run  for  the  nighest  her  and  the  two 
would  crowd  for  the  next ;  then  the  big 
hulking  74,  with  her  three  rows  of  teeth 
showing,  would  put  her  helm  down  and  come 
for  us,  and  when  she  got  almost  near  enough 
to  chuck  a  round  shot  onto  us,  about  ship 
and  away  we  'd  go. 

This  was  sport,  and  there  was  no  danger 
to  it.  'T  was  fine  practice  in  seamanship, 
and  had  plenty  of  healthy  excitement  about 
it  without  letting  you  fear  you  might  be 
expected  to  digest  a  grapeshot  for  dinner. 
The  men  were  gathered  in  groups  about  the 
forecastle,  such  as  were  n't  standing  by  to 
jump  aloft  or  handle  the  ropes.  We  were 
pretty  busy  watching  the  fun,  and  yet  had 
some  time  for  yarning  as  well. 

While  we  were  beating   up  towards  the 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  139 


fleet  after  having  been  run  off  by  the  line-o'- 
battle  ship  for  the  third  time,  coming  up 
easy,  so  as  to  let  the  flock  scatter,  Nancy 
comes  on  deck  and  stood  by  the  main  hal 
yards  for  a  minute,  watching  the  game.  She 
looked  very  handsome  as  she  leaned  against 
the  rail,  her  skirts  shaking  in  the  wind  at 
times,  and  at  times  caught  about  her.  She 
had  a  sailor's  cap  on,  so  rigged  that  her  long 
hair  was  held  inside  it,  but  a  curl  or  two  had 
fallen  outside.  I  guess  she  knew  how,  for 
't  was  hanging  down  when  she  came  on  deck, 
and  the  wind  aint  apt  to  be  very  high  below 
hatches.  She  wore  a  bright  blue  ribbon  at 
her  throat ;  that  I  noticed  specially,  as  it 
used  to  be  a  red  one.  But  "  she  was  going 
to  adopt  us,"  Josh  said,  and  was  learning  our 
bunting. 

Well,  there  were  some  six  or  eight  of  us 
lying  together  just  abaft  the  capstan,  and  we 
quit  looking  at  the  merchantman  and  their 
"  guardeen  "  to  look  at  Nancy.  Presently  one 
of  the  men  we  'd  got  from  the  privateer,  a 
son  of  a  Portugee  swab  from  New  Bedford, 


140  Will  o*  the  Wasp 


where  there  's  a  nest  of  the  yellow  beggars, 
says  something  in  his  nasty,  foreign  way — I 
didn't  hear  what  it  was,  but  I  saw  Jim 
Downs  draw  off  and  hit  him  a  wipe  with  the 
flat  of  his  hand.  Up  springs  the  Portugee, 
twice  the  man  Jim  was,  and  in  a  minute  he 
had  him  by  the  throat. 

Nancy  screamed  and  ran  below. 

I  like  a  fair  tussle  at  times,  tho'  a  man-o'- 
war's  deck  's  no  place  for  it  between  men  of 
the  same  crew,  but 't  was  an  officer's  business 
to  interfere,  and  I  would  n't  ha'  spoiled  sport 
except  that  't  was  no  fair  fight — little  spindly 
Jim  and  the  thick-built  bull-necked  Portugee. 
I  just  took  him  by  the  neck  and  pulled  at 
him  till  he  came  off.  While  I  held  him,  Jim, 
half  choked,  says,  panting  hard :  "  He  said 
she  was " 

I  aint  going  to  put  down  what  it  was,  but 
I  got  a  better  hold  on  him  and  slung  him 
across  the  deck.  "  There,"  says  I,  "  you 
dirty,  yellow  swab  ;  't  is  lucky  Jim's  hand  hit 
you,  not  mine.  Jim,"  says  I,  clapping  him 
on  the  back,  "  you  're  a  better  man  than  I 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  141 


gave'you  credit  for ;  here  's  my  hand,  though 
we  aint  been  very  good  friends.  Well,"  for 
he  did  n't  take  it,  "  all  right,  mate  ;  't  is  a 
pity  for  a  man  with  pluck  to  have  malice, 
too,  but " 

Just  here  I  heard  a  yell  from  a  couple  of 
the  lads,  and  saw  them  run  towards  me,  and 
at  the  same  time  a  feeling  as  if  I  'd  been  burnt 
ran  along  my  ribs.  Before  I  could  do  more 
than  rip  out  a  word,  the  men  were  tumbling 
around  the  deck  atop  the  Portugee,  Pico  ; 
that  was  the  name  he  went  by.  Well,  another 
went  behind  me  and  hauled  the  beggar's 
knife  out  of  my  jacket.  I  could  feel  the 
warm  blood  trickle  down  my  leg,  but  I  knew 
in  a  minute  't  was  only  a  scratch.  The  officer 
of  the  deck,  of  course,  was  on  the  spot  right 
off,  though  he  had  n't  seen  the  first  of  the 
shindy,  owing  to  the  bigger  attraction  of  the 
chase.  Pico  was  ironed  and  put  away  in 
the  brig  to  cool  off,  and  I  went  aft  to  the 
surgeon. 

I  stripped  off  my  jacket  and  shirt  and  he 
put  a  bit  of  plaster  on  the  cut,  and  asked  me 


142  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


how  't  was  it  came  about.  I  told  him,  and 
gave  Jim  a  good  word,  for  the  man's  sudden 
spirit  pleased  me,  in  spite  of  his  sulky  ways. 

"  Well,  Bill,"  says  the  doctor,  "  you  must 
lookout  for  this  precious  hide  of  yours  ; 
you  Ve  got  too  much  depending  on  you." 
I  laughed. 

"  Not  I,  Doctor,"  says  I. 

"  What,"  says  he,  laughing,  and  looking  at 
me  very  sly,  "  no  wife  ?  " 

"  Not  I,  Doctor,"  says  I,  laughing  hearty 
now.  "  Nor  my  mother  aint  a  poor  widow 
woman  neither,  for  dad  's  good  for  twenty 
year  yet,  and  I  've  a  brother  at  home  as  well." 

"  You  're  very  independent,  then,"  says  he, 
cutting  a  slip  of  plaster  and  laying  it  on 
lengthwise  the  cut.  . 

"  Yes,  sir,"  says  I. 

"  No  sweetheart  ?  "  he  says,  taking  another 
side-shot  at  me  out  of  his  lights. 

"  No,  sir,"  says  I,  very  quiet,  for  I  'd  given 
up  any  thought  of  Lindy,  and  gave  up  easy, 
too. 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  now  there  's  that  pretty, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  143 


trim,  little  privateer,  the  Nancy  Barker,  she  's 
going  to  settle  in  America.  What  do  you 
think  of  her,  now  ?  " 

Well,  I  guess  I  turned  pretty  red,  not  all 
because  I  was  flustered,  but  part  because  I 
did  n't  allow  't  was  Doctor's  business.  Still 
I  had  to  answer  respectful. 

"  Well,  sir,"  says  I,  a-buttoning  up  my 
jacket,  "  she  aint  been  cruising  in  my  latitude 
and  longitude,"  says  I,  using  the  kind  of  talk 
he  'd  been  slingin',  "  and  I  guess  she  's  been 
cut  out  already." 

"  Who  's  done  it  ?  "  says  he,  as  he  stood 
by  the  door  to  show  me  out. 

"  Well,  sir,  Jim  Downs,  if  you  ask  me," 
says  I ;  "  leastwise  that  's  my  guess." 

"  You  're  a  damn  fool,  Bill,"  says  he,  sort 
of  dry,  and  opened  the  door. 

There  aint  much  to  do  if  your  officer  calls 
you  names  but  get  out  of  his  course,  particu 
larly  if  you  have  a  temper  that  makes  you 
itch  to  talk  back,  so  I  went  back  to  the  steer 
age  and  then  on  deck.  I  got  there  just  in 
time  for  fun,  and  for  a  spell  I  forgot  what 


144  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


had  just  happened  and  what  was  like  to  set 
me  thinking.  For  some  cause,  maybe  she 
was  n't  so  fast  as  the  others,  maybe  she  was 
heavier  loaded  ;  but,  whatever  't  was,  one  of 
the  convoy  had  fallen  behind  the  others  and 
was  steadily  dropping  astern.  The  Captain 
had  seen  her  from  the  first.  He  had  his 
eyes  on  her,  and  without  steering  so  that 
't  was  plain  what  his  purpose  was,  he  kept 
the  ship  well  in  hand  so  as  to  stand  down 
upon  her  at  the  right  time.  We  were  so 
speedy  that  we  could  keep  to  leeward  of 
the  fleet  and  yet  reach  them  handily.  Sud 
denly  we  went  about  and  beat  up  into  the 
wind  straight  for  the  lagging  merchant-ship. 
How  they  ran  up  aloft  aboard  her ;  men 
swarmed  out  on  the  yards,  and  her  extra 
canvas  was  shaken  out.  She  was  sure  we 
were  after  her,  as  we  were,  but  not  just 
then.  And  pretty  soon  down  from  the  lee 
of  the  fleet,  where  we  'd  drawn  her  by  lying 
to  leeward,  comes  the  74  with  her  big-bellied 
bow,  carrying  a  bone  in  her  teeth,  like  some 
overfed  yard  dog.  She  let  go  a  couple  of 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  145 


bow-chasers  at  us  when  she  thought  the 
range  was  anywheres  near  right,  and  they 
fell  half  a  mile  short. 

John's  gunners,  barring  the  men  aboard 
the  Shannon,  and  one  or  two  other  crack 
ships,  were  n't  worth  the  powder  they 
burned.  British  seamen  could  fight  at  close 
quarters  as  well  as  we  could,  but  they  could 
n't  shoot,  barring  Brook's  men  and  Man- 
ners's.  We  paid  no  heed  to  them,  but  beat 
steady  up  the  wind.  When  we  got  near  the 
ship  we  'd  singled  out,  we  saw  them  throw 
ing  a  lot  of  cargo  over  the  sides,  brass  guns 
and  gun-carriages,  by  thunder,  and  we  knew 
't  was  a  valuable  prize  to  make. 

Meantime  the  Armada  was  coming  up  to 
the  merchantman  from  the  lee  quarter,  and 
we  were  about  a  half  mile  under  her  stern. 
I  looked  to  see  the  Captain  make  a  dash  at 
her,  for  the  74  was  still  a  good  two  miles 
away.  But 't  would  have  been  a  foolish  risk, 
and  he  knew  his  business.  On  we  went  up 
into  the  weather  quarter,  and  the  men  began 
to  think  we  were  going  to  give  the  job  up,  at 


146  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


least  so  far  as  this  particular  ship  went.  And 
now  the  74  herself  acted  a  bit  as  if  she 
thought  so  too.  We  'd  seen  seamen  aloft 
busy  at  the  flying  sails,  as  if  she  were 
crowding  on  all  canvas  to  head  us  off,  and 
now  they  began  coming  below  like  she  'd 
given  up  the  notion  ;  and  as  we  got  well  to 
stern  and  weather  of  the  last  craft,  we  saw 
her  luff  as  if  she  'd  got  an  idea. 

Now  the  two  leading  sails  were  faster  than 
the  others  and  had  drawn  well  ahead.  Sud 
denly  Captain  Blakely,  having  got  good  sea 
room  to  the  weatherward,  comes  about  and 
stands  in  the  direction  of  the  two  leaders, 
with  a  good  breeze  on  his  port  quarter  and 
the  74  lured  down  to  the  tail  of  the  fleet. 
Half  the  men  aboard  the  Wasp  thought 
't  was  the  game  to  cut  the  two  ships  out 
before  the  Armada  could  get  into  distance 
to  protect  'em.  The  Captain  of  the  74  was 
sure  of  it.  About  he  goes  and  crowds  on 
up  to  starboard  of  the  fleet,  expecting  to 
meet  us  round  in  front  of  the  convoy  may 
be,  but  right  there  he  made  a  false  reckoning. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  147 


All  of  a  moment  the  Wasp  went  about,  the 
boatswain's  whistle  sent  us  aloft,  every  sail 
we  carried  was  shaken  out,  and  instead  of 
running  S.  S.  W.  we  bore  down  N.  N.  W., 
straight  on  the  ship  we  'd  singled  out  at 
first. 

Lord,  how  we  flew — 't  was  a  fine  breeze 
and  we  went  right  ahead  of  it.  The  poor 
merchantman  did  n't  seem  to  have  the  life 
left  to  run.  There  was  no  use.  We  were 
almost  alongside  before  the  great  lubberly 
line-of-battle  ship  had  got  about  and  fairly 
headed  for  us.  We  luffed,  and  at  the  order 
a  boat  was  lowered  away  and  a  crew  sent 
aboard  the  prize,  and  in  a  minute  after  our 
boys  had  climbed  aboard,  her  helm  went  up 
and  she  stood  away  in  company  with  us. 
We  ran  off  nor'  nor'  west  across  the  bows  of 
the  Armada,  who  wore  and  gave  us  a  half 
broadside  that  went  wide  and  high.  Old 
Gridiron  flapped  from  the  spanker  gaff,  look 
ing  wide-awake  and  merry,  as  the  old  bunting 
somehow  always  looks,  to  me  anyhow ;  and 
I  swear  this  day  it  seemed  to  wear  a  broad 


148  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


smile  across  its  stripes.  Well,  we  tried  the 
trick  again,  but  this  time  they  knew  the 
catch,  and  content  with  what  we  'd  got  we 
went  on  our  course. 

By  two  bells  we  were  'way  to  leeward  of 
the  convoy  ;  by  four  they  were  out  of  sight. 

Life  was  dull  aboard  the  Wasp  for  a  few- 
minutes.  Life  did  n't  use  to  be  dull  for 
long.  Thinks  I,  now  I  'm  off  duty  I  '11  just 
tackle  Josh  for  what  he  was  so  blasted  set  on 
telling  me  this  morning.  I  'd  been  thinking 
of  what  he  'd  said,  and  how  the  doctor  had 
miscalled  me  and  I  was  n't  quiet  in  my  mind. 

"  Here  's  Josh,"  says  I  to  me,  "  calls  me  a 
damn  thick-head,  and  here  's  Surgeon  calls 
me  a  damn  fool ;  't  is  six  of  one  and  half 
dozen  of  t'  other,"  says  I,  "  and  here  's  my 
self  with  half  a  sneaking  guess  that  they  're 
right,  though  just  why,  Lord  knows,  I  dorit. 
But  two  of  'em  anyway  are  men  who  Ve  seen 
the  world  more  'n  I,  and  know  a  fool  when 
they  see  him,  maybe." 

This  part  of  the  reasoning  began  to  make 
me  mad  again.  "  Still,"  says  I,  "  there  's  no 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  149 


need  of  their  jaw  tackle  running  so  free.  One 
would  suppose,"  says  I  to  me,  "  that  I  'd 
been  hurting  Nancy's  feelings  a  purpose,  to 
hear  Josh  ;  and  to  hear  Surgeon  you  'd  be 
lieve  I  did  n't  know  as  well  as  he  what  a 
clipper  she  is.  Now  splice  those  two  bits 
together,  mate,"  thinks  I,  "and  see  what 
you  get." 

So  I  thought  and  calculated  till  it  suddenly 
came  to  me  that  I  'd  maybe  been  rating  Jim 
too  heavy  and  myself  too  light,  and  just 
about  then  I  concluded  the  next  chance  I  got 
I  'd  square  myself  with  Nancy  and  lay  a  new 
course.  'T  was  n't  long  before  I  got  the 
chance.  She  'd  not  been  on  deck  since  the 
shindy  with  Pico,  but  she  was  up  soon  after 
we  'd  cut  the  prize  out.  At  a  handy  minute 
I  steps  up. 

"  'T  was  a  pretty  chase  and  a  smart  cap 
ture,"  says  I,  "  Miss  Nancy.  It 's  a  pity  you 
should  n't  ha'  seen  it." 

"The  deck  was  n't  the  proper  place  for  a 
woman,"  says  she,  "  with  such  blackguards  as 
your  yellow  Yankee  is." 


150  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  Come,"  says  I,  "  Miss,  he  's  a  Portugee  ; 
no  Yankee  would  ever," — I  was  going  to  say 
"  insult  you  " — but  she  cut  in — 

"  Never  mind  what  he  was,  or  what  he 
said,"  and  shut  her  mouth  close  together. 

"  Downs  was  there,"  says  I,  "  and  hit  him 
a  good  one  to  teach  him  manners."  She 
looked  at  me  sort  of  cold  and  far-away. 

"  Yes,"  she  says,  "  little  as  he  is,  he  stood 
by  like  a  man,"  says  she. 

"  And  yet,"  says  I,  not  liking  her  to  think 
the  rest  of  us  were  not  as  keen  to  take  up 
her  fight  as  Downs,  "  he  's  the  only  one  that 
heard " 

"  Yes,"  says  she,  "  some  little  men  have 
quick  ears." 

Well,  it  was  enough  to  rile  a  parson  to 
hear  the  girl  go  on.  You  'd  suppose  that  we 
all  sat  by  and  heard  Pico  abuse  her  and  left 
it  to  poor  little  Jim  to  take  it  up.  I  wanted 
to  tell  her  the  rest  of  it,  and  if  she  'd  been 
half  way  like  any  reasonable  girl  I  ever  knew 
she  'd  ha'  seen  how  it  all  came  about,  but  I 
knew  she  'd  think  I  was  blowing  my  own 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  1 5 1 


horn,  and  talking  what  she  once  called 
Yankee  brag,  so  I  said  nothing  about  it.  I 
wanted  to  have  a  few  words  with  her  with 
out  a  quarrel,  howsomever,  and  so  I  said 
how  it  did  Jim  very  great  credit,  and  how 
his  heart  was  in  the  right  place  ;  and  several 
other  pleasant  yarns  I  spun,  thinking  to 
please  her. 

"  Stow  Jim,"  says  she  very  sudden,  and 
looking  up  at  me,  "why  don't  you  tell  me 
about  yourself  and  the  cut  you  got  in  the 
ribs?  "  says  she. 

"  Well,  't  was  but  a  scratch,  anyhow,  and 
how  did  you  know  of  it  ?  " 

"  Surgeon  told  me,"  says  she,  then  stopped 
quick,  as  if  she  'd  said  too  much. 

"  How  did  he  come  to  speak  of  it  ?  "  says  I. 

"  None  of  your  affair,"  she  says,  very  airy, 
"  Surgeon  and  I  are  old  friends,"  she  adds 
as  if  to  explain. 

"  Well,  no  offence,"  I  says  ;  I  was  anxious 
to  keep  on  her  good  side,  for  she  seemed  for 
the  minute  to  be  willing  to  treat  me  like  a 
white  man. 


152  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  No,  no  offence,  Bill,  not  a  bit,"  says  she, 
and  laughed. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Surgeon?  "  says  I, 
more  to  keep  the  talk  running  than  any 
thing  else. 

"  Why,  he  's  a  very  nice  gentleman,"  says 
she,  "  and  a  good  friend  of  yours,  Bill." 

"  Is,  hay  ?  "  says  I,  "  he  called  me  a  damn 
fool  to-day,  if  you  call  that  friendly." 

"  What  for  ?  "  says  she,  lifting  her  eye 
brows  and  looking  off  to  sea. 

"  Why,"  says  I,  then  I  got  flustered,  for  I 
did  n't  know  just  how  to  get  away  from  the 
question. 

"  Come,  Bill,  you  must  tell  me ; — tell  me, 
Bill  ?  " 

"Well,"  says  I,  "he  asked  me  if  I  fd  a 
sweetheart  to  home." 

"  Well,"  she  says,  still  looking  out  to  sea 
ward  and  blushing  just  a  little. 

"  And  I  says  no."  She  looked  at  me  then 
and  her  eyes  seemed  kind  and  friendly,  I 
might  almost  say  soft.  "Well,"  she  says 
slowly,  in  a  low  voice,  "and  what  did  he  say?" 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  153 


"  Well,"  and  now  I  wanted  to  back  water 
but  I  could  n't  do  it,  and  there  was  naught 
to  do  but  go  on.  "  Well,"  I  says,  "  he  says, 
'  there  's  Nancy  Barker.'  ' 

I  thought  she  'd  be  in  a  rage  at  this,  but 
she  only  said,  "  Well?  " 

"  And  I  says,  '  She  's  well  enough,'  says  I 
to  him,  'but  she  's  Jim  Downs's,'  and  he 
says,  '  You  're  a  damn  fool.' ' 

I  looked  at  her  then  to  see  what  she  did. 
She  was  still  looking  out  the  hatch,  not 
seeming  to  see  anything,  rather  red  and 
looking  angry.  "  Well,"  I  says,  "  that  's 
the  yarn." 

"  That  's  the  yarn,  is  it/'  says  she  very 
slow. 

"  Yes,"  says  I,  "  and  I  don't  call  that 
friendly,  do  you." 

"  Well,"  she  says,  "  it  's  always  a  friend's 
act,  a  true  friend's  act  to  speak  the  truth." 

"What,"  says  I,  "  you  mean " 

"  Bill,"  she  says,  quite  cool  and  getting  up 
from  the  step  she  'd  been  sitting  on,  "  if  I 
ever  knew  a  man  who  could  rightly  be 


154  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


called  that  name,  it  's  you — yes,  it  is,"  she 
cried  suddenly  flying  into  a  rage  and  stamp 
ing  her  foot — "You  're  a  great  silly  baby 
and  a,  a  damn  fool,  and  that  's  what  you 
are,"  and  down  the  hatch  she  flies  leaving 
me  to  wonder  and  get  hot. 

"  It  's  a  nice  coil  this,"  says  I  to  me — 
"  here  's  three  people  say  I  'm  a  damn  fool 
— one  's  too  old  to  lick,  another  's  my  offi 
cer,  and  the  third  's  a  girl,  so  I  Ve  just  got 
to  sit  by  and  swallow  it — and  worse  yet  here 
am  I  that  's  beginning  to  think  I  am  one  my 
blessed  self  and  yet  to  save  my  life,  Bill,"  says 
I,  "  I  can't  read  the  signals."  I  went  below 
for  a  while,  half  worrying,  half  wanting  to 
swear.  I  was  still  below  when  I  heard  some 
sound  above,  and  then  it  came  louder  and  I 
knew  we  'd  sighted  another  sail.  The  crew 
were  gathered  to  the  sides  of  the  ship,  some 
of  them  in  the  main  shrouds.  Joe  Martin, 
the  boatswain,  was  looking  at  the  skyline 
with  his  glass.  "  There  's  three,"  at  last  he 
said,  "  maybe  more  merchantmen,  lads,  may 
be  warships,  for  they  're  looking  for  us. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  155 


Well,  we  Ve  got  a  bran-new  sting  ready," 
says  he,  laughing,  "  eh,  boys." 

"  You  're  right  we  have,  boatswain,  and 
we  want  nothing  better  than  to  use  it,"  says 
gunner's  mate. 

Boatswain  shook  his  head.  "  We  '11  get 
use  enough  for  it,"  says  he — "  stinging  's 
well  enough,  but  not  too  many  at  once. 
Still,"  says  he,  "  I  guess  the  ship  can  take 
care  of  all  she  lays  alongside  of." 

So  we  went  for  half  an  hour  or  more, 
every  one  on  the  strain,  for  some  way  we  felt 
pretty  sure  we  were  in  for  more  fighting,  and 
at  about  seven  the  chase,  which  was  the  most 
weatherly  of  the  four  sail,  began  to  signal 
with  lanterns. 

"  There  's  a  man-o'-war  in  the  flock,"  says 
boatswain  then  ;  "  even  if  the  one  we  're 
chasing,  is  n't,  for  she  's  signalling  for  aid." 

The  word  was  passed  just  then  for  boat 
swain,  and  he  went  aft.  In  a  few  minutes  he 
came  back  and  spoke  to  several  of  the  gun 
captains.  Then  the  word  got  among  us  that 
we  were  bearing  down  upon  a  brig-o'-war 


156  Will  o' the  Wasp 


about  the  size  of  the  Reindeer,  and  that  't  was 
an  even  chance  she  'd  a  mate  at  hand,  so  we  'd 
have  to  finish  her  up  lively. 

"  This  is  the  right  shop  to  come  to  for 
quick  work,"  says  the  boatswain,  "  now,  lads, 
look  alive  when  we  beat  to  quarters." 

All  this  time  we  were  coming  up  to  the  chase, 
if  you  can  call  her  that,  seeing  she  was  n't 
doing  much  running  away.  I  had  a  little  of 
the  same  feeling  I  'd  had  when  we  were 
closing  with  the  Reindeer,  only  this  time 
't  was  not  so  strong.  I  felt  as  sure  as  that 
my  name  was  Bill  Fry  we  'd  have  her  flag 
down  inside  an  hour,  "  and  yet  should  she  put 
up  as  good  a  fight  as  the  Reindeer"  thinks  I, 
"  there  will  be  a  dozen  good  seamen  less 
aboard  the  Wasp  pretty  soon." 

This  thought  kind  of  kept  hold  of  my 
mind  as  I  walked  up  and  down,  now  and 
again  stopping  to  talk  with  the  lads  as  they 
chatted  in  low  tones  about  the  fo'k'sle.  I 
guess  they  all  felt  a  bit  as  I  did.  They  were 
confident  of  winning,  even  more,  maybe, 
than  before  our  first  action,  but  they  'd  seen 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  157 


bloody  death  next  hand  to  'em,  and  they 
did  n't  know  when  he  'd  get  them  by  the 
throat.  Most  of  'em  were  talking,  clustered 
forward,  where  they  could  see  the  brig  we 
were  making  for.  Here  and  there  one  was 
quiet  and  thoughtful,  thinking  maybe,  of 
wife  or  sweetheart  to  home,  and  one  of 
the  quiet  ones  was  I.  I  'd  no  wife  or 
sweetheart  to  home,  but  right  here  in 
the  Wasp  was  a  lass  I  was  loving,  and  lov 
ing  very  dear,  in  my  way,  which  was  stupid, 
I  guess,  and  slow.  She  'd  called  me  a  hard 
name  that  very  afternoon,  and  had  gone 
away  leaving  me  to  choke  back  and  down 
the  feeling  that  once  in  a  while  would  come 
to  me,  that  she  really  liked  me  a  little. 
Now,  in  a  short  time,  the  drum  would  call 
us  to  quarters,  and  then  who  knew  what  was 
to  come. 

Maybe  she  'd  be  sorry  if  they  had  to  sew 
me  up  and  slide  me  off  a  plank  in  the  morn 
ing.  But  I  'd  never  said  anything  to  her  that 
would  make  her  take  any  special  interest  in 
me.  I  was  a  fool  to  her,  as  a  fool  she  'd  feel 


158  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


sorry  for  me,  and  there  was  an  end.  I 
could  n't  bear  to  go  into  action  and  that 
word  the  last  between  us.  The  night  was 
coming  on,  and  we  were  gaining  fast  on  the 
brig ;  we  'd  be  called  to  quarters  soon. 
"  There  's  one  thing,"  I  says  to  me,  "  she 
always  is  bound  to  think  a  wise  man's  act, 
and  that  is  to  be  fond  of  her,  and  I  'm  going 
to  let  her  know  that  in  that  quarter  my 
head 's  as  good  as  the  next  man's."  I 
thought  I  'd  go  below  and  hang  about  the 
waist  of  the  ship  a  minute,  on  chance  of  see 
ing  her. 

I  went  to  the  hatchway,  and  there  she 
stood.  There  she  stood,  no  cap  on,  her  hair 
tumbled  over  her  shoulders,  a  white  kerchief 
about  her  throat,  and  a  quiet,  strained  look 
to  her  face.  Because  of  the  dark,  she  hardly 
knew  me  as  I  came  up,  then,  when  she  did, 
she  looked  at  me  in  a  way  as  if  I  'd  come 
right  along  the  same  wind  with  her  thoughts. 

"  Miss  Nancy,"  says  I,  looking  down  at 
her,  "  here 's  the  fool  back,"  says  I,  not 
knowing  just  what  to  say. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  159 


She  did  n't  speak,  but  rested  her  hands  on 
the  rail  of  the  companion-way,  and  looked 
at  me  with  her  lips  a  little  apart,  and  breath 
ing  rather  quick. 

"  He  wants  to  know,"  I  went  on,  "  Bill 
Fry,  the  fool,  Miss,  seeing  he  's  going  into 
action,  if  you  won't  wish  him  not  Plymouth 
Jail,  maybe,  but  luck,  this  time,"  and  I  put 
out  my  hand,  and  as  I  did  the  roll  of  the 
drum  rang  out  clear  and  loud.  I  gave  one 
look  at  her,  for  she  was  quiet,  and  turned  to 
go,  when  she  caught  me  by  the  arm  and 
pulled  me — she  was  a  strong  lass — almost 
down  the  hatch. 

"  Wait,"  says  she,  "  I  am  first,  give  me 
your  hand ! "  She  took  it  and  pressed  it 
hard,  and  I  found  she  'd  put  a  little  smooth 
coin  into  it.  "  That 's  for  luck,"  she  said, 
and  sprang  down  the  hatchway.  'T  was  the 
sixpence  with  the  hole  in  it  she  'd  given  me 
two  months  before  and  I  'd  given  back. 

She  stopped  at  the  foot  of  the  com 
panion-way  and  watched  me  dumfounded 
standing  there.  "  'T  is  for  good  luck,  good 


160  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


luck,  Will,"  she  called ;  "  't  is  a  lucky  six 
pence." 

I  never  heeded  the  men  running  here  and 
there,  the  bustle  and  the  roar;  I  never 
heeded  my  gun  captain's  cursing  me  and 
yelling  to  me  to  look  alive  ;  I  jumped  down 
the  stair  and  caught  her  hand.  "  Miss,"  I 
said,  all  in  a  tremble. 

"  Oh,  not  Miss,  Nancy — Nancy,  Nancy, 
stupid,"  she  cried,  and  threw  her  arms  about 
my  neck  and  kissed  me,  then  sprang  away 
and  was  gone.  I  stood  like  one  dazed. 
Happy  was  I  ?  That 's  not  the  word,  drunk, 
I  guess,  is  nearer. 

God  knows  how  long  I  'd  'a'  stood  there,  if 
a  hand  had  n't  gripped  my  shoulder  and 
the  gun  captain's  voice  yelled  into  my  ear : 
"  Bill,  you  lubber,  are  you  skulking  or  crazy  ? 
Come  up  here!"  I  turned  and  shook  him 
off. 

"  Hands  off,  mate,"  says  I,  "  I  'm  coming. 
Skulking  aint  in  my  family,  but  crazy  I  may 
be,"  says  I,  as  I  followed  on  deck,  "  but  God 
help  me,  I  hope  not."  Into  my  mouth  for 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  161 


safe  keep  I  slips  the  sixpence,  and  in  a  sec 
ond  more  was  at  my  gun. 

'T  was  dark  enough  by  now,  but  the  brig's 
battle  lanterns  were  lit,  and  so  were  ours,  o' 
course,  and  the  two  crafts  were  marks  enough 
for  those  as  handled  guns.  The  brig  was 
still  signalling,  for  help  maybe,  the  Lord 
knows  she  needed  it,  but  Captain  Blakely 
had  picked  her  out  and  was  going  to  get 
her,  consort  or  no.  Suddenly  she  lets  go  a 
gun.  It  made  a  noise,  but  where  the  shot 
went  we  did  n't  know,  not  into  us  surely. 
Then  she  lets  go  another  !  'T  was  good  for 
a  salute  and  that  was  all.  The  Wasp  came 
right  along  and  as  still  as  the  Flying  Dutcti- 
man,  no  cheering,  no  guns. 

So  it  went  for  nearly  three  quarters  of  an 
hour  I  should  guess.  'T  was  not  so  hard  to 
stand  as  in  the  Reindeer  fight,  for  we  felt 
these  lubbers  could  n't  shoot,  should  they 
fire  on  us  again  before  we  were  ready  to 
open,  which  they  did  n't.  Manners's  lads 
were  gunners  in  act,  as  well  as  name.  About 
9.30  I  saw  the  crew  of  the  bloody  little  shift- 


1 62  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


ing  carronade  we  'd  taken  out  of  the  Rein 
deer,  a  useful  gun  it  was,  as  well  we  knew, 
begin  to  jump  about,  and  in  a  minute  off 
she  goes,  and  't  was  easy  guessing,  by  the 
rattle  of  truck  upon  the  brig's  deck,  she  'd 
taken  her  word  straight.  Three  or  four 
guns  replied,  all  without  carrying  much 
meaning  in  their  answer,  so  to  speak,  and 
then  Blakely,  like  the  game  cock  he  was, 
fearing  just  one  thing,  that  she  might  get 
away,  puts  up  helm  and  runs  to  leeward  of 
her,  and  ranged  right  alongside,  and  let  go  a 
broadside  into  her  quarter. 

For  a  few  minutes  't  was  as  hot  as  the 
Reindeer  action,  maybe  hotter.  So  close  we 
were  that  a  man  was  knocked  off  his  feet  by 
a  gun  wad.  We  did  n't  know  then  who  the 
craft  was  we  were  fighting ;  she  was  a  big 
one,  and  her  tops  seemed  black  with  men. 
She  fired  high,  as  the  British  most  always 
did,  and  the  ropes  and  rigging  caught  it 
pretty  hot.  She  got  only  four  shots  into 
our  hull.  I  heard  'em  crash  and  tear,  and  I 
heard  a  cry  from  below. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  163 


"  My  God  !  "  I  thinks,  "  Nancy  's  below 
there,"  and  it  shows  how  I  felt  towards  the 
lass  when  I  say  I  left  the  gun  and  was  going 
in  a  kind  of  wild  way  to  the  hatchway. 

Some  one  caught  me  by  the  arm  and 
swung  me  round.  "  You  trying  to  skulk, 
Fry  ?  "  says  he.  'T  was  the  ship's  doctor. 

This  brought  me  to  myself. 

"  I  was  afraid  she  'd  been  struck." 

"  Struck,  you  rascal,  she  '11  never  strike  !  " 
he  roared. 

"  Not  the  ship,  sir,"  I  said. 

"  What  then  ?  " 

"  Why,  Nancy." 

"  Oh,  Nancy  !  You  get  back  to  your  gun. 
She  's  aft  in  the  ward-room  safe  enough  ;  get 
back  to  your  gun,"  and  back  I  went. 

But  there  was  only  a  few  minutes  more  of 
this,  for  the  brig  had  got  nigh  punishment 
enough.  Her  officers  maybe  were  gallant 
men,  indeed  they  must  ha'  been  to  do  as 
well  as  they  had,  but  they  were  not  of  the 
William  Manners  kind.  He  'd  have  let  us 
get  under  his  lee  and  glad  of  it ;  or  he  'd  ha' 


1 64  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


sailed  his  craft  right  onto  our  deck,  if  so  be 
he  could.  But  this  brig  was  done  dinner 
without  the  extra  ration  of  boarding. 

We  'd  been  at  it  from  our  first  gun  to  the 
time  she  lay  still,  about  half  an  hour  maybe. 
Then  one  of  the  officers  hailed  her  and  asked 
had  she  struck  ?  A  musket  shot  and  one 
gun  replied.  She  had  some  life  left,  and  we 
gave  her  a  couple  more  broadsides,  then  quit 
for  a  minute  as  she  did  n't  answer,  and  't  is 
no  credit  to  pound  a  whipped  man.  This 
time  when  we  hailed  we  got  an  answer. 

She  had  struck,  and  we  began  to  lower 
away  a  boat.  Just  as  we  were  doing  so 
comes  a  cry  of  another  craft  close  under  our 
stern,  coming  up  in  the  dark. 

Sure  enough,  and  a  war  vessel,  too — a  brig 
like  the  one  we  'd  just  silenced.  There  was 
quick  work  for  a  few  minutes  aboard  the 
Wasp,  you  may  lay  to  that. 

To  run  away  ?     Not  at  all. 

'T  was  the  Captain's  wish  to  engage  the 
second  brig  as  he  'd  done  the  first. 

She  came  across  our  stern  while  we  were 
still  putting  things  tidy,  to  give  her  a  polite 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  165 


reception,  and  let  us  have  a  broadside  that 
cut  us  up  a  bit  aloft,  then  stood  for  the  brig 
we  'd  just  whipped,  which  was  burning  lights 
and  firing  guns  of  distress.  We  were  going 
to  engage  the  fresh  one,  but  two  more  sails 
were  made  out  just  then,  and  it  was  thought 
best  to  go  on  our  course,  which  we  did. 

I  have  heard  since  that  the  brig  we  fought, 
sunk  soon  after — that  she  was  the  Avon,  18, 
and  the  brig  that  came  up  was  the  Castilian, 
1 8,  and  following  her,  H.  M.  S.  Tartarus. 
So  we  were  wise  to  slip  away,  though  't  was 
generally  believed  among  the  men  that  we 
could  ha'  whipped  the  Castilian  had  she 
been  alone,  for  we  were  nigh  as  good  as  new, 
and  only  three  men  short.  Two  dead,  poor 
Joe  Martin,  the  boatswain,  as  true  a  soul  and 
good  a  boatswain  as  ever  whistled  a  man 
aloft,  and  Henry  Staples,  the  quarter  gunner. 
Two  men  were  wounded  ;  one  of  them  was 
Josh  Sewall.  He  was  old,  too  old  to  rally, 
and  the  day  after  the  fight,  though  he  was 
not  hard  hit,  he  was  very  bad,  and  the 
Surgeon  looked  grave. 


1 66  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


The  morning  after  the  fight  I  was  busy 
just  abaft  the  foremast  when  I  looked  up 
and  found  Nancy  standing  by  me.  I  got  up, 
there  was  no  one  in  sight  at  the  minute,  we 
were  well  hidden,  and  put  my  arm  about  her 
and  kissed  her. 

She  did  n't  mind  it ;  she  seemed  to  be 
pleased  with  me  ;  and  we  said  a  few  words 
to  each  other,  no  matter  what,  't  is  no  use 
writing  'em  down.  I  '11  never  want  'em  again 
to  say  to  any  living  woman,  and  they  were 
too  private  for  even  this  log.  I  guess  we 
had  finally  understood  each  other. 

"  So,  Will,"  she  says,  sitting  down  by  me 
on  the  deck,  "  you  were  going  to  desert  your 
gun  last  night,  were  you  ?  " 

"  There  's  just  one  person  in  all  the  world 
could  make  me  do  that,"  I  says,  bragging  a 
little,  I  suppose,  but  you  know  I  was  talking 
to  my  sweetheart,  "  and  that  's  you,  Nancy  ; 
but  how  did  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  The  Surgeon,"  says  she,  looking  very  sly, 
and  reaching  a  hand  under  cover  of  the  sail 
I  was  mending. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  167 


I  took  it,  though  I  can't  tell  why  I  put 
that  down  here,  only -perhaps,  because  up  to 
now  I  'd  been  so  blind,  and  a  day  or  two  be 
fore  would  ha'  supposed  she  'd  put  her  hand 
under  the  canvas  to  keep  it  warm. 

"  Now,  Nancy,"  says  I,  holding  her  hand 
very  tight,  "  we  aint  said  much,  you  nor  I, 
but  we  understand  each  other,  don't  we, 
lass  ?  " 

"I  'm  sure  I  can't  speak  for  you, "says  she. 
"No,  no,  Will,"  says  she,  "not  here,  not 
again — not  now,  anyhow,  for  there  's  Mr. 
Downs  standing  by  the  mizzen-shrouds." 

"  Blast  Mr.  Downs,"  says  I ;  "  I  suppose 
he  has " 

"Oh,  Will,"  she  says,  very  quiet  and 
serious,  "  he  never  did,  and  you  must  n't  talk 
that  way  to  me,"  says  she. 

"Well,  I  beg  pardon,"  says  I;  "but, 
Nancy,  that  young  beggar  Joe  said  he  had — 
often — in  Plymouth.' 

"  Perhaps,"  says  she,  quite  cool,  then,  hot, 
"  and  I  boxed  his  blooming  ears  well  for  him 
- — the  young  neddy,"  says  she,  and  then. 


1 68  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


looking  at  me  in  a  way  that  made  everything 
snug  again,  "  I  did  n't  know  you  then, 
Will." 

Just  then  boatswain's  mate  came  along  by 
and  I  went  on  stitching  canvas,  for  you  can't 
stitch  with  one  hand.  But  boatswain's 
mates  are  n't  passing  all  the  time,  and  by 
and  by  we  were  talking  as  before. 

"  Nancy,"  says  I,  "  you  know  I  used  to 
think  Josh  knew  more  'n  he  told  me,  about 
the  vivandeer  business." 

"Well,"  says  she,  "you  see,  I  'm  beginning 
to  talk  like  a  Yankee — I  guess,  you  see,  Will, 
I  'm  beginning  to  '  guess '  already  ;  he  did. 
Why,  you  're  the  greatest  stupid  I  ever 
knew,"  says  she,  laughing  at  some  memory, 
maybe,  that  came  to  her. 

"  I  '11  tell  you  now  how  it  all  was,"  she 
goes  on,  holding  my  hand  very  close  and 
leaning  my  way.  "  Tell  me  one  thing  first 
that  you  Ve  forgot,"  she  says,  quite  sudden. 

I  began  to  think. 

"  Oh,  oh,  oh,"  says  she,  as  if  very  provoked 
and  yet  laughing,  too,  "  do  you  call  yourself 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  169 


an  able  seaman,  yet  here  am  I  have  to  lay 
the  course  for  you  all  the  while  ?  Why,  you 
have  n't  said,  '  I  love  you,  Nancy.'  ' 

I  looked  at  her,  but  she  would  n't  meet  my 
eyes. 

"  Lass,"  says  I,  quite  low,  "  I  did  n't  think 
that  was  needed." 

"  Yes  it  is,"  she  cries,  "  it  is,  and  anyhow 
I  want  you  to — say  you  love  me,  say  it 
quick." 

I  let  go  her  hand,  for  I  needed  my  arm. 
"  My  dear,"  says  I,  "  I  love  you  better  than 
I  can  tell  you,  far  better  than  I  love  myself, 
and  I  'm  pretty  fond  of  Bill  Fry,  too." 

"  And  so  am  I,"  says  she,  and  put  her  face 
up  towards  mine. 

This  log  is  n't  needed  to  call  back  to  my 
mind  that  evening.  'T  is  clear  yet  in  my 
memory.  The  good  Wasp  heeling  a  bit  as 
she  stood  along  on  a  brisk  breeze  over  her 
port  beam — twilight  coming  on,  and  a  star  in 
the  westward,  for  we  were  pointed  towards 
home.  A  sailor  was  singing  soft,  the  other 
side  the  hatchway,  some  hymn  tune  't  was, 


1 70  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


that  I  had  heard  before.  And  many  's  the 
time  since  then  I  Ve  sat  in  meeting  and  heard 
that  tune.  And  as  I  lean  back  in  my  old 
seat  by  the  wall,  I  hear  no  more  preaching, 
see  nothing  of  the  folk  around  me,  but  the 
noise  I  '11  hear  will  be  the  hum  of  a  steady 
breeze  aloft,  the  creak  of  the  tackle,  and  the 
wash  of  the  sea,  till  I  almost  believe  that  I  '11 
find  beside  me,  when  I  open  my  eyes,  my 
dear,  dear  lass,  and  love,  Nancy  Barker. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

HOW    THE    WARD-ROOM    DRANK    TO    NANCY 
BARKER. 

I  'VE  no  wish  to  speak  here  of  the  prizes  we 
took,  for  we  overhauled  three  or  four  be 
tween  the  1st  and  the  2ist  of  the  month. 
We  burned  or  scuttled  all  of  them  and  took 
the  crews  aboard.  'T  was  odd  enough  that 
Nancy  would  have  no  more  to  do  with  her 
countryman,  but  since  she  'd  made  up  her 
mind  to  be  American  by  annexation,  she  'd 
no  wish  to  look  back. 

All  these  days  we  'd  see  each  other  every 
day  a  little  while,  sometimes  by  ourselves, 
sometimes  with  others  about.  There  was 
difference  enough  between  such  meetings  to 
make  me  look  ahead  with  a  bit  of  impatience 
to  the  end  o'  the  cruise.  We  were  very 
careful  about  Jim  Downs,  for  I  knew  he  was 
sparking  Nancy,  or  had  been,  and  would  be 
171 


1 72  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


the  wrong  man  to  know  our  secret ;  that  was 
my  reason,  Nancy's  was  to  keep  him  trotting 
for  her  just  so  long  as  she  could.  And  that 's 
the  truth,  by  thunder. 

"  Tell  the  poor  swab,"  says  I  to  her. 

"  And  make  him  unhappy  for  the  rest  of 
the  cruise?  "  says  she. 

"  Gammon,  lass,"  I  says — "  it  's  not  that, 
my  dear,"  I  says,  "but  you  want  the  beg 
gar's  polite  little  tricks  when  I  'm  on  duty," 
says  I,  "  and  maybe  if  anything  happens  to 
me — 

"Come,  Will,"  says  she,  "that  's  an  old 
joke  by  now,  you  know." 

"Well,"  says  I,  "  and  that  's  true,  but  't  is 
one  of  the  few  jokes  I  know  ; — never  mind, 
Jim,"  says  I,  remembering  the  trick  he  played 
me  once  and  how  he  'd  acted  off  and  on  with 
me,  aboard  ship,  "  maybe  't  will  be  the  kind 
est  way  and " 

"  Do  you  know  what  he  asked  me  to  do  at 
L'Orient?"  says  she,  suddenly. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  to  run  off  to  England  with  him — 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  1 73 


he  said  he  'd  desert  and  get  aboard  an  Eng 
lish  packet  that  came  in  while  we  lay  there." 
Nancy  always  spoke  of  us  as  we,  by  now. 

"  The  sneak,"  says  I — "  and  you  would  n't 
go  away  with  a  deserter — hay  ?  " 

"  Not  that  one,"  she  says,  smiling. 

"  Nor  me  either,  I  hope,  if  I  were  one  as 
well,"  says  I. 

"  No,"  says  she,  quite  slow,  "  no,  Bill,  I 
don't  think  that  I  would,"  says  she.  This 
by  good  luck  was  one  of  the  times  we  were 
by  ourselves. 

So  everything  went  along  pretty  pleasant. 
I  guess  Surgeon  saw  how  things  were,  for  he 
told  me  one  day  that  I  had  more  intelligence 
than  he  gave  me  credit  for,  and  one  day 
again  he  says : 

"  Bill,  I  suppose  you  '11  not  be  following 
the  sea  after  this  cruise."  He  sort  of  cocked 
his  eye  at  me,  and  I  knew  what  he  was 
driving  at. 

"Well,  sir,"  says  I, '"I  Ve  heard  as  how 
Captain  Blakely  left  a  wife  ashore  to  go  this 
cruise,  and  maybe  I  '11  be  able  to  do  as  well 


1 74  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


as  he  on  the  next — give  me  a  little  time 
ashore." 

"  I  '11  give  you  ten  days,"  says  he,  "before 
that  clipper  girl,  that  privateer,"  says  he, 
calling  her  the  same  name  he  'd  used  before, 
"  takes  charge  of  the  ship  and  turns  you 
adrift  in  the  dingy,"  and  he  laughed  hearty. 

The  2 1st  day  of  September  we  took  a  brig, 
the  Atalanta.  She  was  armed  with  eight 
guns,  and  was  a  prize  worth  the  saving.  We 
threw  a  prize  crew  into  her  with  Mr.  Geisin- 
ger,  a  midshipman,  in  command,  and  sent 
her  home.  Captain  Blakely  had  me  into  his 
cabin  before  we  parted  company  with  the 
brig. 

"  Bill,"  he  says,  as  if  it  came  natural  to 
him,  and  I  found  out  later  that  they  talked 
a  good  bit  of  Nancy  and  me  in  the  ward 
room,  so  't  was  as  if  he  knew  me  better, 
maybe,  than  he  did  some  of  the  others  of 
the  crew. 

"  Bill,"  says  the  Captain,  "  the  Atalanta  's 
going  straight  for  a  home  port,  and  it  's  my 
intention  to  send  Miss  Nancy  along  of  her ; 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  1 75 


this  ship  's  no  place  for  her,  though  't  is  as 
safe  as  a  church  so  far  as  my  lads  go." 

"  You  can  tie  to  it,  't  is  so,  sir,"  says  I, 
saluting,  "  and  please  your  honor,"  I  says, 
"  if  I  may  speak,  is  it  not  a  better  place  than 
the  Atalanta  brig?" 

"Why,  Bill,"  he  says,  "can't  you  trust 
her  ?  "  and  laughed  a  bit. 

This  stirred  me  up.  "  Trust  her,  sir,"  says 
I,  "  trust  her  I  can  wherever  her  own  mind 
stands  at  the  wheel,  your  honor,"  says  I ; 
"but  who  's  to  say  some  bloody  British 
privateersman  may  not  snap  the  brig  up? 
Aboard  the  Wasp,  sir,  she  's  safe — naught 
short  of  a  74  can  get  her  out  of  us,  and  we 
can  show  heels  to  the  best  line-o'-battle  ship 
in  King  George's  Navy,  sir,"  I  says. 

I  'm  no  fool,  in  some  ways  at  any  rate, 
and  I  knew  what  I  said  would  please  Cap 
tain  Blakely,  and  please  him  it  did. 

"  Well,  Doctor,"  says  he,  smiling,  to  Dr. 
Clarke,  who  was  with  him,  "  Bill 's  a  great 
sea  lawyer,  aint  he ;  there  's  something  in 
what  he  says,  too.  But  Bill,"  he  went  on, 


1 76  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


she  'd  be  safe  in  a  British  crew,  for  she  's  an 
English  girl,  you  know." 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  Captain,"  I  says,  "but 
she  's  as  good  a  Yankee  by  now  as  Bill 
Fry." 

"  Well,  well,"  says  Blakely  after  a  min 
ute's  thought,  "  I  '11  put  you  aboard  the 
Atalanta  in  the  prize  crew,  my  man,  and 
you  can  look  after  Miss,"  says  he  ;  "you  're 
a  good  hand  to  lose  though,"  says  he,  talk 
ing  half  to  himself,  "  too  good  almost,  eh, 
Doctor  ?  " 

The  Doctor  kind  o'  shook  his  head.  He 
wanted  to  help  me  and  Nancy  home  safe, 
and  yet  he  did  n't  like  to  advise  against  any 
thing  the  Captain  might  suggest.  As  for  me, 
it 's  the  truth  I  was  for  the  time  so  pleased 
to  think  of  getting  my  girl  to  shore  and  go 
ing  along  of  her,  that  I  guess  I  could  n't 
help  showing  it.  I  waited  for  the  Captain, 
and  by  and  by  he  says  again  : 

"  Well,  Bill,  I  '11  send  you  aboard  the 
Atalanta,  and  you  can  look  out  for  the  lass 
yourself." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  177 


I  saluted  and  went  forward,  and  in  a  jiffy 
found  Nancy  at  the  door  of  her  cabin  and 
told  her.  At  first  she  seemed  as  happy  as  I 
was,  till  I  happened  to  say  that  Captain 
said  I  was  most  too  good  a  man  to  lose. 
This  I  said  to  brag  a  bit,  and  I  got  caught 
up  for  it.  She  was  quite  sober  for  a  minute, 
and  then  she  says : 

"  Will,"  says  she,  "  if  I  must  leave  you,  then 
I  must — I  *m  not  afraid,  with  our  men  aboard 
the  brig,"  she  meant  the  lads  from  the 
Wasp,  "  and  I  '11  find  a  safe  place  to  wait 
for  you  in  America — you  can  send  me  a 
letter  to  your  mother,  you  know,"  says  she  ; 
"  but,  Will,  I  can't  have  you,  that  I  love  so, 
and  respect  as  much,  leave  duty  when  you  're 
needed,  to  look  out  for  me."  She  just  put 
her  arms  about  my  neck  and  looked  me 
right  in  the  face. 

"  But,  lass, "  says  I. 

"  No,  dear,"  she  says,  breaking  in,  "  you 
must  not  go."  Then  she  put  her  head  on 
my  shoulder  and  cried. 

I   thought  she  'd  changed  her  mind,  and 


178  Will  o'the  Wasp 


says  I  :  "  Nancy,  it 's  all  right ;  there  '11  be  no 
more  work,  and  it 's  best  I  should "' 

"  Oh,  Will,"  she  says,  stopping  her  sobs, 
"  I  want  you  so,  I  want  you  so,  but  dear, 
don't  you  see  how  proud  it  makes  me  to 
think  they  don't  like  to  spare  my  lad  from 
his  gun.  Maybe  they  won't  send  me,  but  if 
they  do,  it 's  go  alone.  'T  will  be  but  a  few 
months,  dear." 

Well,  the  upshot  of  this  was  that  that 
afternoon  I  stood  before  the  Captain  again. 
There  were  several  officers  with  him,  and  the 
Surgeon  too. 

"  Well,  says  he,  pleasant,  for  he  was  always 
that  way  with  his  men,  "  what  now,  Bill — 
is  n't  the  young  lady  willing  to  leave  us  with 
you?" 

"Your  honor,"  says  I,  "she  's  ready  to 
go  if  so  be  she  must,  but  I  '11  not  go  along  of 
her.  If  there  's  need  of  me  aboard,  as  ask 
ing  your  pardon,  I  thought  from  what  you 
said  this  morning  there  might  be,  why  I 
shipped  for  work  aboard  the  Wasp,  sir,  and 
on  the  Wasp  I  '11  serve,  unless  your  honor 
drives  me  off,"  says  I,  quite  red  by  now. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  1 79 


The  Captain  looked  at  me  very  steady. 
"  You  mean  this,  my  lad,"  said  he  very 
gentle,  but  in  a  voice  that  made  me  happy 
to  have  said  my  say  as  I  said  it.  Then  he 
looked  round  at  the  others.  "  That  's  the 
sort  of  seamen  I  cannot  afford  to  put  aboard 
a  prize,  gentlemen,"  says  he,  and  they  all 
said  something,  never  mind  what,  about  my 
being  the  true  sort. 

I  was  feeling  pretty  proud,  when  a  sud 
den  idea  came  into  my  head.  'T  was  Nancy 
to  praise  for  this,  not  me.  And  I  spoke  up 
quick : 

"Your  honor,"  says  I,  "  I  should  tell  you 
and  the  gentlemen  here  one  thing,  for  I  cal 
culate  to  be  honest,"  says  I,  "  I  would  have 
gone  to-day  in  the  Atalanta,  and  happy  to  at 
that,"  says  I,  "  but,  sir,  my  lass,  't  is  she  won't 
have  it,  for, '  Will,'  says  she,  '  I  'm  that  proud 
to  think  they  value  you,  that  want  you  as  I 
do,  I  '11  go  alone  sooner  than  take  you  away 
from  duty,'  says  she,  and  so,  Captain  and 
gentlemen,"  says  I,  "  it  stands  this  way." 

Well,  before  the  Captain  could  speak  the 
Surgeon  hit  the  table  with  his  fist. 


i8o  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  By  the  Lord,"  says  he,  "  Captain  Blakely, 
you  can't  put  that  lass  in  a  prize  crew 
neither,"  says  he,  "  let  her  stay  aboard,  let 
her  stay  if  she  '11  take  the  chances." 

The  Captain  looked  to  the  other  officers. 
"  What  do  you  say,  gentlemen  ?  " 

"  Why,  if  she  's  willing,  let  her  stay,"  says 
one,  and  the  other,  who  seemed  to  be  a  jolly 
lad  in  a  way,  says :  "  By  all  means,  Captain, 
she  '11  heart  the  crew  up  ;  and  I  suggest  if  it 
suit  you,  sir,  we  drink  her  health." 

"With  all  my  heart,"  says  the  Captain, 
and  raps  on  the  table.  I  was  going  to  go 
but  he  stops  me. 

"  Wait,  my  man,"  says  he,  "  you  of  all 
men  should  drink  that  health."  When  the 
boy  brought  in  the  glasses  and  a  bottle  of 
sherry  and  we  'd  all  filled,  the  Captain  nods 
to  the  Surgeon  and  says  he,  "  Clarke,  give  us 
a  sentiment,"  and  Surgeon  says,  "  I  give 
you  the  last  Yankee  invention,"  says  he, 
"  a  man-o'-war's-woman — here  's  Nancy  Bar 
ker  ! "  says  he,  and  we  took  it  down  at 
a  toss. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  181 


"  Now,  Bill,"  says  the  Captain,  "  you  can 
go  and  tell  the  young  lady  she  takes  the 
chances  of  war."  And  so  I  saluted  and 
went  forward. 

In  this  way  things  ran  along  for  more 
than  two  weeks.  Each  day  I  'd  see  some 
thing  of  Nancy ;  sometimes  only  a  word 
did  we  have,  sometimes  maybe  a  half  hour 
or  more.  One  day  I  remember  she  came 
back  to  the  talk  we  had  before  about  my 
folks. 

"  Will,"  says  she, — for  some  days  when 
she  'd  feel  special  kind  she  always  called  me 
that,  though  't  was  Bill  when  in  a  hurry, 
maybe,  or  perhaps  vexed  with  me, — "  do 
you  think  your  mother  's  going  to  like 
me  ?  "  she  asks,  quite  soft,  as  if  afraid  what 
I  might  say. 

"  She  '11  like  anything  I  do,  I  guess,"  says 
I  ;  "  anyhow  I  'm  not  obliged  to  lie  at  the 
same  dock,"  says  I. 

"  Still,"  says  she,  "  I  'd  like  her  to  like  me." 

"  Well  I  don't  know  how  she  can  help  it— 
that 's  the  fact,"  says  I. 


1 82  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  But,  Will,"  says  she,  "  I  'm  afraid  for 
my  language — it 's  too,  too  sailor-like,  Will, 
for  you  know  it 's  what  I  've  mostly  heard 
all  my  life.  You  won't  be  telling  her  now 
that  I  called  you  a  damn  fool,  will  you, 
dear?" 

"  God  bless  you,  my  lass,"  says  I  with  a 
roar,  for  I  had  to  laugh  to  hear  her  so  simple, 
yet  kind  of  anxious,  too  ;  "  she  's  called  me 
the  same  many  's  the  time — not  in  those 
words  maybe,  but  meaning  the  same  ;  and 
you  did  but  tell  the  truth  when  all 's  said 
and  done." 

"  Will,  are  you  sure  there  's  no  sweetheart 
waiting  for  you  in  Portsmouth,  lad  ?  " 

"  Sure  am  I,"  says  I,  "  and  I  wish  I  was 
so  sure  of  a  long  life." 

"And  has  there  never  been  one,  dear?  " 

I  did  n't  answer  at  once  and  she  ran  on, 
not  waiting :  "  I  'm  glad  there  has  n't,  for 
indeed  't  is  plain  there  's  never  been  one — 
you  don't  act  like  a  man  that 's  kept  com 
pany  somehow." 

"How's  that?"  says  I,  willing  to  leave 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  183 


Lindy  and  the  way  she  treated  me  out  of 
the  talk. 

"  Why,"  she  says,  laughing  in  my  face, 
"  I  'm  just  guessing,  that 's  all,  like  a  Yankee 
that  I  'm  going  to  be." 

"  Oh,"  says  I,  "  't  is  well  for  you  it 's  broad 
day  and  the  deck  full  of  sailors,  or  I  'd  take 
my  pay,  so  much  for  a  guess,  like  a  church 
fair,"  I  says,  and  she  runs  away  below. 

So  things  went  along.  I  had  but  little  to 
say  or  do  with  Jim  Downs  all  this  time,  but 
I  'd  seen  him  with  Nancy  quite  frequent.  I 
never  worried  much  about  it,  but  sometimes 
the  swab  made  me  angry  by  his  stupid  ways. 
He  might  ha'  seen  how  matters  stood  with 
half  an  eye.  'T  was  an  open  secret  abaft  the 
mizzen-mast  I  reckon,  and  some  of  my 
mates  were  poking  fun  at  me  much  of  the 
time. 

Now  old  Josh  Sewall,  as  I  said,  had  been 
wounded  in  the  fight  with  the  Avon  and 
had  n't  picked  up.  'T  was  nice  to  see  the 
way  the  girl  looked  after  him.  If  he  'd  been 
her  father  she  could  n't  ha'  been  gentler 


1 84  Will  o' the  Wasp 


with  him.  The  old  man  always  had  a  liking 
for  her  and  she  'd  read  to  him  and  fetch  him 
this  and  that,  from  the  galley,  the  cook  would 
fix  up  for  him,  for  he  was  as  well  liked  an  old 
lad  as  you  could  find. 

One  day  in  the  early  part  of  October  he 
was  very  bad,  out  of  his  head  a  good  half 
the  time  and  calling  to  people  we  never 
knew  or  heard  of.  He  was  the  first  I  'd 
ever  heard  a-raving  and  't  was  hard  to  listen 
to.  Nancy  stayed  close  by  him  most  of  the 
time.  Lord,  how  the  poor  old  lad  would 
shout.  Nancy  crept  up  to  the  deck  for  a 
bit  of  fresh  air,  and  I  found  her  there. 

"  O  Will,"  says  she,  "  he  's  talking  of 
some  one  named  Sarah,"  says  she,  "  and  it  's 
cruel  hard  to  hear  him,  and  see  him  pipe 
his  poor  old  eyes  and  throw  his  arms 
around." 

"  There  now,  lass,"  says  I,  for  she  began 
to  cry,  "  you  're  piping  your  own  pretty  eyes 
and  't  will  do  no  good.  It's  likely  his  mother 
he  's  talking  of." 

"  His  mother  !  "   says  she,  "  do  you   call 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  185 


your  mothers  by  their  first  names  in  America  ? 
— no,  you  stupid,  't  is  his  wife." 

"  Or  daughter,"  says  I. 

"  No,  wife,  I  tell  you,"  says  Nancy  very 
set,  "  and  O  Will,  do  you  think  when  you 
get  to  be  as  old  as  Josh  you  '11  remember 
me?  Come  below  a  minute  and  see  the 
poor  old  man." 

Down  we  went  and  up  to  Josh's  bunk 
in  the  steerage.  He  was  talking  fast  and 
high,  and  I  heard  names  that  used  to  be 
heard  when  the  navy  was  just  out  the  shell 
— Jones  and  Biddle  and  Preble  and  Somers. 
Josh  had  been  following  the  sea  since  the 
first  war,  the  war  of  Independence.  Then 
of  a  sudden  all  this  stopped  and  he  said  very 
distinct : 

"  Sarah,  here  's  your  man  Josh,"  and  then 
again  and  again. 

I  had  to  go  on  deck,  and  glad  of  the 
chance,  for  my  scuppers  were  running. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

HOW  JIM  DOWNS  TOOK  FRENCH  LEAVE. 

\X7E  had  sighted  a  sail  early  on  this  day 
and  by  now  had  got  close  to  her  and 
hove  her  to.  We  found  her  to  be  the  Nor 
wegian  packet  Adonis,  and  we  sent  a  boat  off 
to  her.  With  the  boat  went  Jim  Downs 
with  some  private  letters  of  several  officers 
aboard  to  parties  in  Europe. 

The  poor  beggar  had  been  very  down  in 
his  mouth  for  a  fortnight  and  was  that  pale 
and  sick-looking  that  many  who  did  n't  like 
him  pitied  him.  His  action  with  the  Portu- 
gee  brigantine  Pico,  as  Josh  used  to  describe 
the  little  scuffle  he  and  the  yellow  beggar 
had  on  the  fo'k'sle,  had  made  him  more 
friends  than  he  'd  had  up  to  then.  He  was 
sick  for  news  o*  land  and  needed  change  of 
some  kind,  I  reckon,  so  he  was  let  go  aboard 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  187 


the  Adonis  as  a  kind  of  treat,  for  by  and  long 
a  treat  it  is,  when  you  Ve  been  six  weeks  or 
more  at  sea,  to  look  at  new  faces,  and  hear 
fresh  news,  other  than  the  sulky  mugs  and 
surly  lies  you  run  athwart  on  your  prizes. 
Well,  the  boat  was  gone  a  long  time — then 
back  it  comes — we  saw  some  kind  of  excite 
ment  aft  as  the  officer  in  charge  reported. 
Then  off  goes  the  boat  again  and  we  saw  the 
officer  board  the  Adonis  once  more.  By  and 
by  we  could  tell  there  was  something  up 
aboard  the  packet  for  there  was  hand 
shaking  going  on  and  then  down  the  lad 
der  to  the  cutter  comes  our  officer  and  two 
strangers. 

When  the  boat  got  near  the  Wasp,  we  'd 
lined  the  bulwarks  to  see  what  was  up,  and 
presently  we  saw  the  Captain  off  his  hat  and 
cry  out  some  hail,  then  the  other  officers, 
and  then  who  cheers  but  Bill  Fry,  for  sitting 
cosy  and  cool  in  the  stern  of  the  boat  were 
Lieutenant  McKnight  and  Master  Lyman  of 
my  old  ship  the  Essex.  They  had  been  ex 
changed,  as  it  turned  out,  and  were  bound 


1 88  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


to  England  from  Rio  Janeiro,  as  the  readiest 
way  home,  when  they  met  us. 

Well,  the  lads  cheered  and  cheered  as  the 
word  ran  forward,  and  pretty  soon  we  could 
see  the  handshaking  on  the  quarter-deck.  I 
kind  of  edged  up  near  to  where  the  Captain 
and  the  two  Essex  men  stood.  By  and  by 
McKnight  caught  sight  of  me.  Rethought 
he  knew  me,  then  he  thought  he  did  n't. 
But  presently  he  walks  up  to  me — 

"  Where  have  you  served,  my  man  ?  "  says 
he. 

"  On  the  Essex,  sir,"  says  I,  saluting. 

"  I  knew  it,"  he  says,  "  you  must  have 
been  sent  off  in  one  of  the  prize  crews." 

" The  Hectors,  sir." 

"  Well,  well,"  says  he,  "  you  missed  bloody 
glory  and  the  stiffest  business  I  ever  heard 
of,  by  being  aboard  her,"  says  he. 

"  Well,  sir,"  says  I,  "  we  Ve  had  some 
pretty  hot  duff  to  swallow  aboard  the  Wasp, 
sir,"  I  says. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  he  says,  "  I  know  your  cap 
tain  and  I  '11  go  bail  for  him  to  keep  you 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  189 


busy."     Here  the  Captain  takes  him  by  the 
arm. 

"  Come,  McKnight,"  says  he,  "  come  be 
low  and  let  us  get  a  word  of  Porter.  I  '11 
spin  my  yarn,  and  get  yours.  We  've  had 
no  news  of  the  Essex  for  the  last  eight 
months."  The  Captain  and  all  but  the  officer 
of  the  deck  went  below.  There  was  more 
going  and  coming  between  the  two  ships; 
both  McKnight  and  Lyman  went  back  to 
the  Adonis  for  a  short  spell  and  another  trip 
the  boat  made  after  that,  but  finally  we 
parted  company  and  she  was  soon  hull 
down.  It  did  n't  take  long  for  the  story  of 
the  staunch  old  Essex  to  get  over  the  ship, 
and  for  several  hours  't  was  all  the  men  talked 
or  thought  about.  'T  is  history  now,  well 
known,  I  guess,  how  the  game  little  frigate 
lay  in  Valparaiso  harbor  ready  to  fight, 
yes,  daring  'em  on,  either  British  ship  that 
pleased,  and  one  of  them,  the  Phcebe,  big 
ger  than  her.  But  they  did  n't  please. 
They  'd  come  out  to  get  Captain  Porter  and 
his  ship,  and  't  was  a  risk  they  could  n't 


190  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


afford,  to  talk  single  with  him  an  hour,  or 
maybe  two. 

Every  tar  that 's  fought  under  the  gridi 
ron  knows  how  Porter  might  ha'  raked  the 
Phoebe  when  she  fouled  him  running  into 
harbor,  and  how  because  the  British  Com 
modore  swore  that  he  meant  no  offence  the 
Yankee  Captain  let  it  pass.  And  every 
man-jack  has  heard  how  the  Britisher  sent 
neutrality  to  hell  and  pitched  onto  the  little 
Essex,  crippled  by  her  topmast  going  off  in 
a  gale,  and  pounded  her  from  a  distance,  till 
she  lay  a  blazing  wreck  with  her  cockpits 
full  of  dead  and  the  dead  and  wounded  lit 
tering  the  ship  from  stem  to  stern. 

Pounded  her  from  a  distance,  mind  ye — no 
coming  aboard,  not  they ;  had  they  tried  it 
— but  well,  well !  I  get  now  so  hot  over  it, 
though  't  was  years  ago,  I  can  but  rip  and 
curse.  'T  was  my  old  ship,  the  ship  I  first 
learned  the  man-o'-war's-man's  trade  in,  and 
I  own  I  felt  like  a  baby  when  I  heard  how 
she  'd  been  taken. 

But  Lord,  she  took  toll,  too !     And  had 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  191 


she  been  able  to  get  in  closer  quarters  the 
story  maybe  would  have  been  another  one. 

Well  it  must  ha'  done  the  two  officers  we 
took  aboard  good  to  hear  what  we  'd  been 
doing,  and  the  spirit  of  them  showed  out  in 
their  coming  on  deck  dressed  again  in  the 
States  uniform,  volunteer  officers  for  the  rest 
of  the  cruise.  The  men  all  gathered  aft  and 
cheered  them  hearty,  and  McKnight  taking 
off  his  hat  says  : 

"  Lads,  we  Ve  shipped  aboard  the  Wasp 
along  with  Captain  Blakely,  because  we  like 
him,  because  we  belong  under  the  old  bunt 
ing  yonder,  and  because,  by  the  Lord,"  says 
he,  suddenly,  "  we  Ve  a  score  to  pay  John 
Bull,  and  we  're  honest  men  that  pay  our 
debts." 

Well,  such  talk  was  the  talk  for  the  Wasp's 
crew.  I  know  I  Ve  said  it  here  before,  but 
it  keeps  coming  up  to  me,  and  that  is  the 
spirit  that  ran  through  the  entire  ship's  com 
pany.  They  did  n't  seem  to  care  about  go 
ing  home — they  were  more  anxious  to  cruise 
and  fight,  almost,  than  the  officers  them- 


192  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


selves,  if  such  a  thing  could  be.  They  got 
it  straight  from  one  man,  and  that  was 
Blakely.  With  his  gentle  face  and  pleasant 
manners,  he  was  the  deadest  set  man  for 
fighting  I  ever  saw.  And  't  is  truth  that  the 
presence  of  the  two  officers  from  the  Essex 
seemed  to  heat  things  up.  I  heard  it  said 
that  Blakely  had  sent  a  challenge  by  the 
Adonis  to  any  two  British  brigs  to  fight 
him.*  It  was  like  him,  if  it  wa'  n't  true ;  and 
you  may  call  it  brag,  but  from  what  I  saw 
the  night  we  sunk  the  Avon,  we  could  ha' 
given  an  account  of  'em. 

Now,  while  everything  was  full  of  stir  and 
as  much  in  a  wax  as  things  can  ever  be  on 
board  a  man-o'-war,  owing  to  the  officers 
from  the  Essex  and  their  news,  no  one  came 
to  notice  that  Jim  Downs  was  n't  aboard. 
By  and  by  purser's  clerk  did,  and  then  there 
was  a  hot  search.  But  't  was  no  use. 

The  swab  was  gone. 

He  'd  hid  himself  aboard  the  Adonis  and 
got  away.  The  Norwegian  was  out  o'  sight 

*  Niles's  Register. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  193 


when  we  knew  she  had  him  aboard,  and  't  was 
hardly  worth  while  to  chase  her. 

"  Let  the  little  skunk  go,"  says  the  gun 
ner's  mate  to  me,  "  he 's  the  fly  in  the  oint 
ment  that  causeth  it  to  stink." 

Gunner's  mate  was  one  of  the  most  pious 
talking,  aye  and  thinking  too,  aboard  the 
ship,  but  in  action  he  had  a  gift  in  the  way 
of  talk  that  he  did  n't  learn  at  meeting,  by 
thunder ! 

Well,  I  guess  't  was  generally  considered 
a  good  riddance  aboard  the  Wasp.  I  wanted 
to  tell  Nancy,  for  I  'd  not  seen  her  since 
morning,  and  so  I  went  to  her  cabin.  The 
door  was  closed.  I  rapped. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  says  she. 

"  'T  is  I,  Bill,"  I  answered,  and  I  heard  her 
jump  to  the  door  and  then  she  threw  it  open. 
God  help  me,  I  never  saw  her  look  so  wild 
and  strange  ! 

"What,"  says  she,  hardly  able  to  talk, 
"  do  you  come  here,  you  liar,  you  liar !  I 
know  you  for  what  you  are,  Mr.  Bill  Fry," 
she  cries,  stamping  her  foot  and  throwing 


194  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


her  hand  with  a  bit  of  a  letter  in  it,  almost 
against  my  face,  "  Oh,  you  Ve  no  sweetheart 
at  home,  you  never  had  one — oh  no,  no," 
she  says,  for  I  was  too  hit  all  of  a  sudden  to 
say  a  word  ;  "  I  've  word  of  it,  mate, — I  know 
the  bloody  lies  that  you  Ve  been  spinning 
out  to  me  now." 

She  was  getting  back  into  her  old  fo'k'sle 
way  of  talk. 

"  Lass,"  says  I,  "  for  God's  sake,  what  's 
come  to  you,"  for  I  thought  she  'd  gone 
crazy. 

"What 's  come  to  me?"  says  she,  with  a 
laugh  that  I  could  n't  bear  to  hear,  "  this  is 
what  's  come  to  me,"  and  she  held  the  letter 
towards  me.  I  saw  't  was  Jim  Downs's  fist 
on  it. 

"  Well,"  I  says,  trying  to  be  cool,  though 
temper  was  getting  to  weather  of  me,  "  that 's 
from  the  poor  sneak  that  's  just  stowed 
away  on  the  Adonis  and  deserted.  T  is 
likely  a  lot  of  blasted  lies,  but  read  'em  lass, 
if  you  won't  let  me  do  so,"  for  she  snatched 
it  back  when  I  tried  to  take  it. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  195 


"  No  need  o'  that,"  she  says,  "  no  need  to 
tell  you  of  Lindy ;  ah,  you  know  it 's  true, 
you  know  it  is." 

"  But,"  says  I,  "  I  never  lied  to  you  of 
her ;  I  gave  her  up  when  I  left,  when  I  left, 
Nancy,  I  knew  she  did  n't  care  for  me,  and 
so  help  me  God  I  never  did  really  care  for 
her.  Josh  Sewall  will  tell  you,  I  left  her, 
and  glad  to  be  away,  lass,  't  is  the  truth." 

"  Oh,  don't  tell  me  more  lies,  you  mean  sea 
lawyer,"  says  she,  shaking  her  head.  "  Josh 
Sewall  dying,  too — a  good  witness  for  one 
that  does  n't  want  the  truth  told.  What 
about  the  token  you  sent  her  by  Caleb 
Whaley,  eh,  what  about  the  gold  anchor  with 
the  wreath  about  it  ?  " 

"  Lass,"  says  I,  trying  hard  to  talk  cool, 
"  't  is  true  I  sent  such  a  knicknack  to  the 
girl,  and  with  it  went  good-by,  and  no  word 
of  promise,  and  she  cared  less  about  me  and 
what  I  was  doing  than  she  cared  for  the 
trinket,  which  Caleb  says  was  little  enough." 

"  Oh,  stow  your  talk,"  says  the  girl,  "  I  '11 
ask  no  more  questions,  my  man, — you  need 


i  g6  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


tell  no  more  lies  ;  why  don't  you,"  says  she, 
asking  a  question  right  off,  "  tell  me  to  ask 
Caleb  Whaley,  who  's  dead  this  six  weeks  ? 
Dead  men  tell  no  tales,  Mr. -Bill,"  she  says, 
"  but  live  ones  make  up  for  'em,"  and  then 
she  laughed  again  in  a  way  that  cut  my 
heart. 

"  Nancy,"  says  I,  trying  once  more  to  get 
sense  into  her  head,  "  listen,  for  God's  sake, 
lass " 

"  Don't  you  dare  speak  to  me  that  way," 
she  said,  very  fierce,  and  I  never  knew  any 
one  so  hot  all  through  with  temper.  "  I 
never  want  you  nor  any  other  Yankee  to 
speak  to  me  again.  God  forgive  me,"  she 
says,  crying,  but  only  out  of  rage,  "  for  for 
getting  oM  Plymouth  and  my  birthright  as 
an  English  girl.  I  '11  be  put  aboard  the  first 
ship  we — you,  I  mean — you,  you  Yankees 
heave  to,  and  go  anywhere — anywhere  away 
from  Yankees  and — and  lies."  And  here 
she  broke  out  into  a  sort  of  cry,  pushed  me 
from  the  door  and  shut  and  locked  it. 

I  went  on  deck  and  was  sent  aloft  almost 


Will  o*  the  Wasp  197 


as  soon  as  I  got  there.  Lying  out  on  the 
yards  furling  sail  I  had  n't  the  chance  to  do 
much  thinking  of  what  had  just  took  place. 
When  you  're  aloft  your  brains  must  be  in 
your  ringers.  If  you  let  'm  run  around  try 
ing  to  explain  why  a  lass  lets  a  broadside 
into  you  without  hailing  you,  as  it  were, 
you  're  apt  to  take  a  long  drop,  and  I  was 
always  the  man  to  look  after  my  own  skin. 

Yet  it  won't  do  to  say  I  wa'  n't  cut  up,  and 
worse.  If  it  had  been  plain  anger  bothering 
me  I  'd  ha'  weathered  it  handity,  but  the  girl 
was  so  much  to  me  that  to  think  of  her  go 
ing  so  wrong  about  me,  was  by  itself  enough 
to  cut  me  to  the  heart.  And  to  think  she 
had  called  me  a  liar,  and  believed  it,  and  one 
witness  dying,  and  one  dead,  and  the  whelp 
that  made  all  the  trouble  safe  away  where  I 
could  n't  get  my  hands  on  his  windpipe ! 
Well,  when  I  got  to  deck  again  and  let  these 
things  come  over  me,  I  was  in  what  they 
call  a  state  of  mind  !  I  knew  't  was  the  wise 
thing  to  let  the  girl  cool  off,  and  so  I  waited. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

HOW  JOSH  SEW  ALL  WENT  TO  SARAH. 

T  DID  n't  see  Nancy  again  that  night  nor 
the  following  day.  So  the  next  night  I 
got  to  see  the  Surgeon  a  minute.  I  told  him 
the  whole  yarn  and  he  believed  me. 

"  I  '11  see  her  to-morrow,  Bill,"  he  says — 
"  She  's  a  girl  of  sense,  and  I  '11  make  it  all 
ship-shape  again,"  says  he. 

To-morrow  was  a  long  time  a-coming,  and 
when  about  eight  bells  Surgeon  comes  along 
side  and  takes  me  to  the  rail  by  the  mizzen- 
shrouds,  it  seemed  as  if  I  'd  waited  a  week. 

"  Bill,"  he  says,  "  let  the  girl  alone.  She  's 
in  a  curious  frame  of  mind,"  says  he;  those 
were  his  words — "  and  the  least  said  to  her 
for  a  while  the  better.  She  thinks  we  're  all 
liars  and  calls  us  Yankees,  which  last,  praise 
God,"  says  he  laughing,  "  I  'm  glad  to  say 
198 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  199 


is  true.  But  just  at  the  present  she  's  a 
fitter  subject  for  the  Chaplain  than  for  me.  I 
think  she  's  got  as  lively  a  command  of  lingo 
of  a  sea-faring  kind,"  says  he,  "  as  any  old 
salt  that  follows  the  sea.  At  present  she  's 
down  on  everything,  her  luck  to  begin  with, 
and  the  whole  ship's  company  from  Captain 
Blakely  to  William  Fry,  and  him  especially," 
says  he  laughing.  "  So  Bill,  let  her  cool  a 
day  or  two  more.  As  it  is,  I  'm  afraid  she  '11 
fire  the  ship  yet." 

I  thanked  him  and  allowed  it  would  be 
best  to  go  by  his  steering.  It  made  me 
smile,  sick  as  I  felt,  to  think  of  the  girl  lay 
ing  the  Surgeon  aboard,  and  I  knew  't  would 
ha'  been  the  same  with  the  Chaplain. 

That  evening  I  heard  word  that  Josh 
Sewall  was  going.  I  went  to  the  old  lad's 
side  in  the  steerage.  Half  a  dozen  of  the 
men  were  standing  around,  and  kneeling  by 
his  bed  was  Nancy  Barker.  She  never 
looked  at  us  but  watched  the  poor  old  man's 
face  and  now  and  then  took  his  hand  when  it 
was  quiet. 


2oo  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


For  two  days  he  'd  talked  and  mumbled  all 
the  time,  always  coming  back  to  the  same 
old  word — "  Sarah,  here  's  your  man  Josh," 
and  as  we  stood  about  him  he  struck  up 
again. 

I  'd  known  him  fifteen  years,  off  and  on, 
and  never  heard  he  was  married  or  ever  had 
been.  But  Jack's  marriage-certificate  is  his 
word,  I  guess,  and  there  's  many  has  a  wife 
in  every  port,  as  they  say,  but  Josh  was  not 
that  build ;  and  if  so  be  there  was,  or  had 
been,  a  Sarah  with  a  claim  to  the  old  man, 
I  'm  willing  to  believe  Josh  was  her  man, 
aye,  her  man  and  no  other's. 

As  he  moaned  and  called  out,  Nancy 
would  kind  of  soothe  him,  now  and  again 
sobbing  to  herself,  and  Josh  would  some 
times  hold  her  hand  in  both  of  his,  and  then 
he  'd  lie  quiet.  Sick  and  crazy  as  the  poor 
old  lad  was,  he  could  tell  the  hands  that  held 
him  belonged  to  a  woman  who  was  caring 
for  him  and  was  sorry  for  him. 

The  Surgeon  in  a  few  minutes  told  us  we 
must  leave  him  to  himself.  The  girl  might 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  201 


stay  if  she  would,  he  said.  I  could  n't  help 
stepping  close  to  her  a  minute. 

"  Nancy,"  I  says,  very  low,  "  I  swear  to 
you  here  by  old  Josh's  death-bed  that " 

"  Hush,"  says  she,  very  cold,  "  this  is  n't 
the  place  for,  for  what  is  n't  true." 

"  But  it  is,  it  is,  lass — I  care  no  more  for 
that  girl  than— 

"  Then  you  're  false  to  her  and  that 's  nigh 
as  bad,"  says  she.  "  No,  Mr.  Fry,"  she  says, 
very  quiet,  "  let  's  have  no  more  words  about 
the  thing."  And  just  then  the  Surgeon 
ordered  me  away. 

We  buried  Josh  that  evening,  as  we  'd 
buried  near  two-score  good  seamen,  our  own 
and  British,  since  the  cruise  began.  A  good 
loyal  man,  handy  with  his  cutlass,  an  all 
round,  first-class,  able-bodied  seaman,  was 
buried  with  old  Josh  Sewall. 

'T  was  a  calm  evening,  though  it  looked 
like  weather  to  the  sou'east,  and  the  splash 
of  the  body  as  it  slipped  off  the  plank  sent 
ripples  out  and  around  like  a  stone  in  a  mill- 
pond. 


2O2  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


Josh  could  and  would  swear,  many  's  the 
time ;  and  I  've  seen  him  obliged  to  make  a 
dozen  tacks  in  a  straight-laid  course,  because 
he  'd  a  little  too  much  Medford  between 
decks,  but  not  often.  This  was  all  top- 
hamper.  The  hull  of  the  man  was  sound  as 
oak,  and  there's  a  snug  berth  for  Josh  aloft, 
if  there  is  for  any  one.  No  one  of  us  knew 
where  he  was  born,  what  corner  of  the  States 
he  hailed  from,  but  he  went  to  his  long 
home  and  to  Sarah,  as  he  wanted  to  go,  by 
way  of  the  sea. 

We  had  hardly  finished  with  the  burial 
service  when  the  man  on  the  lookout  forward 
sighted  a  sail  on  the  port  bow.  'T  was  a 
pleasant  change  and  like  the  life  on  sea. 
There  's  too  much  on  hand,  what  with  the 
weather  to  watch,  the  ship  to  look  to,  and 
the  skyline  to  search  for  sail,  to  spend  much 
time  thinking  of  a  dead  messmate,  however 
good  he  may  ha'  been,  and  we  were  all  on 
the  jump,  to  rights.  I  guess  the  liking  for 
prizes  is  like  the  taste  for  rum.  The  more 
you  get  the  more  you  want,  and  some  time 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  203 


had  passed  since  we  'd  lit  up  the  night  with 
a  bonfire.  But  before  dusk  had  settled  we 
knew  't  was  no  merchantman  we  'd  sighted  ; 
no,  nor  no  brig-o'-war  this  time. 

"  'T  is  a  corvette  or  a  frigate,"  says  one  of 
my  mates  whose  eyes  were  keener  than 
mine,  "  and  it 's  dollars  to  shillings,"  says  he, 
"  it 's  a  frigate,  for  I  never  saw  a  corvette  of 
her  size." 

Sure  enough,  word  soon  blew  about  the 
fo'k'sle  that  we  'd  sighted  a  frigate,  a  44 
maybe,  certainly  not  under  a  36,  and  what 's 
more,  we  were  not  going  to  run. 

"  Run  !  "  says  an  old  lad  nigh  me,  "  run 
after  her,  maybe,"  and  that  's  how  the  lads 
all  felt. 

By  and  by  I  heard  that  John  Rowe  had 
been  aft  on  some  duty,  and  he  'd  heard  what 
the  Captain  said  about  her  as  he  sized  her 
up  from  the  quarter  deck.  Says  John: 

"  Captain  Blakely  says,"  says  he,  "  '  She  's 
a  big  one,  Tillinghast,'  he  says,  and  Tilling- 
hast  says,  '  She  's  no  more  to  fight  than  two 
brigs  at  once,  is  she?'  and  the  Captain 


204  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


laughs  kind  of  quiet  and  says,  '  That  's  what 
Ave  're  going  to  find  out,'  and  then  all  the 
officers  laughed,  and  looked  at  each  other  as 
if  to  say,  'That's  what  we  were  thinking.' 
Then  up  comes  Mr.  McKnight  from  below 
and  takes  a  look,  then  says  he,  '  You  're  not 
sheering  off  are  you,  Blakely  ? '  and  then,  get 
ting  the  ship's  course,  says  he,  '  Why,  she  's 
not  so  big  after  all.'  '  Wait,'  says  Captain, 
and  just  then  the  boatswain's  whistle  pipes 
up,  the  ship  tacked,  and  down  we  went  along 
the  wind  head  on  to  the  frigate.  McKnight 
turned  sudden  and  gripped  Blakely's  hand, 
and  says  he,  '  Captain  Blakely,  you  're  a 
man,  there  's  a  score  to  settle,'  says  he,  and 
Captain  says,  '  The  time 's  come,  then.'  " 

So  we  men  knew  that  fight  was  the  word, 
and  we  knew  what 's  more,  that  we  'd  got 
our  work  cut  out  and  plenty  of  it.  Yet  by 
this  we  'd  got  so  sure  of  our  little  ship  that 
we  did  n't  worry.  The  chase — I  call  her  that 
not  because  she  was  running  away,  for  she 
wa'  n't,  but  because  we  were  running  after 
her — was  due  ahead.  I  guess  now,  from  her 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  205 


course,  she  was  going  to  cruise  off  the  south 
ern  coast  of  the  States,  maybe  going  to  join 
Cockburn's  squadron  in  the  Chesapeake. 

She  was  n't  hurrying  at  all,  and  she  likely 
took  us  for  a  friend,  for  she  began  just  at 
the  edge  of  the  dark,  when  we  were  maybe 
two  miles  to  windward,  to  signal  us  with  lan 
terns.  By  and  by,  however,  she  quit  this, 
for  we  paid  no  heed  ;  she  luffed,  took  in  sail, 
and  aloft  goes  a  ball  that  suddenly  broke 
out  into  her  colors.  'T  was  too  dark  to 
make  'em  out,  but  they  were  n't  the  gridiron 
or  the  tricolor,  that  was  plain. 

"  Union  Jack,  I  guess"  says  a  lad  to  me. 
"  Well,  Bill,  we  '11  have  a  closer  look  at  the 
rag  in  a  jiffy,"  he  says,  laughing. 

A  minute  later  she  fired  a  gun  towards  us. 
'T  was  a  long  gun  I  guess,  and  the  shot 
hummed  away  in  the  dusk  a  few  hundred 
feet  across  our  bows.  I  ran  below  like  a 
flash,  for  I  had  something  to  do  before  I  was 
called  to  quarters.  And  this  is  what  it  was. 

I  had  to  get  a  word  somehow  to  Nancy ; 
't  was  no  use,  I  could  n't  go  on  with  her  a 


206  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


doubting  me,  thinking  me  a  liar.  So  though 
I  'm  no  fist  at  the  writing,  I  made  out  to  get 
a  word  or  two  on  paper,  and  this  is  what  it 
was. 

"  Miss  NANCY  BARKER — Dear  lass — You 
wrong  me  cruel  when  you  call  me  a  liar.  I 
never  lie,  and  to  you  I  never  could.  I  kind 
of  half  cared  for  Lindy  Truby,  but  the  day 
before  I  shipped  her  father  warned  me  I 
could  not  have  her,  because  he  found  I  was 
drunk  one  night,  which  I  was  and  which 
sailors  sometimes  is,  and  no  great  blame 
thinks  I.  I  cared  so  little  that  I  was  willing 
to  ship,  and  next  day  I  sent  a  locket  and 
word  that  I  was  blacklisted,  and  said  I  gave 
up  any  claim  I  had,  but  maybe  if  I  came 
home  honorable  and  would  lay  a  better 
course,  she  'd  take  me  again  on  trial,  in  a 
manner  of  speaking.  There  was  no  promise, 
lass,  just  a  coil  of  '  ifs,'  and  then  I  saw  you 
and  loved  you  from  the  first,  and  love  you 
now  I  always  will.  And  I  say  this  as  we  're 
running  down  to  fight  a  ship  that  ought  to 
eat  us  up,  only  it  '11  have  to  chew  hard  to 
do  so,  and  maybe  't  is  the  last  you  '11  ever 
hear  of  your  loving  friend, 

"  BILL  FRY." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  207 


I  went  to  her  cabin  with  this  letter  think 
ing  to  slip  it  under  the  door.  The  door  was 
open  and  no  one  inside.  I  stepped  in  to  lay 
it  on  the  bunk.  I  'd  never  yet  been  in  the 
room  of  a  girl  I  loved,  and  't  was  a  strange 
feeling.  Her  dresses  that  she  'd  made  her 
self  were  hanging  about,  and  a  few  other 
clothes.  There  was  a  kind  of  a  perfume- 
like  that  made  me  think  of  her,  and  sort  of 
turned  me  weak. 

On  a  locker  where  the  wash  basin  was  I  saw 
two  little  bracelets  of  cord,  woven  and  twisted 
pretty,  that  I  'd  done  for  her.  She  used  to 
wear  'em  always  before  we  had  our  quarrel, 
and  now  she  'd  taken  'em  off.  But  it  made 
me  sorry,  not  mad.  I  'd  but  little  time  now 
for  thinking  of  Nancy  Barker,  and  I  was  n't 
going  to  think  hard  of  her  in  what  time  was 
left.  On  a  peg  hung  her  jacket  that  she  wore 
as  a  "  vivandeer,"  and  sudden  the  idea  came 
to  me  to  slip  the  note  into  its  pocket.  If  I 
came  out  of  the  action,  why,  I  'd  give  her 
word  of  it,  if  not,  some  day,  and  soon,  for 
she  often  wore  it,  she  'd  put  her  hand  in  the 
pocket  and  get  my  letter. 


208  Will  o'  the  Wasp  . 


So  I  steps  over  and  slipped  it  in.  And 
though  it  maybe  don't  sound  seamanly  to 
tell  of  it,  much  less  to  do  it,  I  put  my  head 
into  the  flannel  and  kissed  it  a  half  dozen 
times,  and  felt  for  a  minute  a  good  deal  like 
a  boy  that  's  leaving  home  for  the  first  time. 

Then  all  of  a  sudden  I  heard  the  drums 
on  deck  bang  and  rattle,  and  I  jumped  and  ran 
away  forward  and  up  through  the  forecastle 
hatch  upon  deck.  I  saw  in  a  minute  that 
we  were  in  for  the  best  fight  of  our  lives, 
for  not  half  a  mile  aport  lay  the  ship  we  'd 
picked  upon,  for  that  's  what  we  did,  in  a 
schoolboy's  lingo,  and  she  was  a  frigate. 


CHAPTER  X. 

HOW   I   SAW  THE  LAST   OF  THE   "WASP." 

OHE  was  n't  a  32 — that  we  could  tell — 
she  was  a  bigger  ship  than  the  Essex, 
as  big,  I  guessed  at  the  time,  and  later  found 
was  true,  as  the  Shannon.  I  don't  know  why 
Captain  Blakely  did  n't  sheer  off  when  we 
got  near  enough  to  see  this,  but  I  guess  he  'd 
made  his  mind  up  to  take  a  frigate,  and 
McKnight  was  pushing  him  on  if  that  was 
needed,  which  the  Lord  knows  it  wa'  n't. 
Hardly  was  I  on  deck  when  across  the  sea 
came  a  hail,  remarkably  distinct  for  the  dis 
tance,  but  the  wind  was  almost  gone  and  the 
sea  very  smooth. 

"  What  ship  's  that  ?  "  came  the  hail,  and 
Lieutenant  Baury  jumping  onto  the  quarter 
rail,  yells  back : 

"  What  ship  's  that  ?  "  and  I  heard  a  laugh 
14  209 


210  Will  o*  the  Wasp 


among  two  or  three  of  the  officers,  and  one 
says  : 

"  Gad,  Baury,  he  '11  know  us  for  Yankees 
now,  answering  question  with  question," 
and  in  a  minute  the  hail  came  again : 

"  Who  are  you,  damn  you  ?  " 

"  Tell  'em,  Mr.  Baury,"  says  Captain  Blake- 
ly,  very  cool,  in  a  voice  that  was  quiet  but 
heard  all  along  the  deck,  and  the  Lieu 
tenant  shouts : 

"  U.  S.  sloop  Wasp,"  and  hardly  was  the 
sound  of  his  voice  gone  when  she  let  go  a 
broadside.  Mostly  high  the  balls  went,  but 
one  of  'em  hit  us  fair  in  the  quarter,  splin 
tered  the  bulwark  and  sent  a  piece  of  wood 
flying  among  the  officers  who  stood  by.  It 
struck  one  of  them ;  't  was  poor  Baury,  I 
think,  and  I  saw  him  carried  below,  and 
there  was  no  more  time  for  aught  but  caring 
for  our  own  guns. 

Up  spoke  our  port  guns.  What  they  did 
we  could  only  guess,  but  we  felt  they  'd  been 
heard  from  ;  and  then  in  a  minute  came  the 
boatswain's  whistle  and  quick  orders,  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  211 


aloft  went  a  gang  of  the  men,  the  ship  wore, 
topsails  were  backed,  and  then  we  seemed  to 
be  waiting. 

We  could  see  in  the  dusk  that  the  enemy 
had  come  about  and  had  tried  to  stand  across 
our  bows,  and  we  knew  Blakely  had  spoiled 
the  move. 

She  could  n't  rake  us  maybe,  but  she  had 
the  mind  to  board  us,  and  as  we  pushed  a 
little  ahead  giving  her  another  broadside  as 
we  went,  she  tacked  and  stood  down  upon  us 
trying  to  run  us  aboard  about  our  port 
beam. 

But  Blakely  saw  the  game,  wore  ship, 
stood  away,  and  beat  it  again.  She  could 
not  come  aboard  us  then,  but  she  ran  up,  for 
fast  she  was,  and  no  mistake  ;  and  ranging 
alongside,  not  more  than  pistol  shot  away, 
let  us  have  her  starboard  battery,  with  a 
"peppering  of  musketry. 

'T  was  a  well  aimed  broadside  and  brought 
our  maintop  to  the  deck.  This  was  a  new 
experience  to  our  lads,  but  little  time  they 
had  to  sense  it.  As  it  crashed  and  ripped 


212  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


through  shrouds  and  ropes  to  the  deck 
hanging  at  last  caught  in  the  hamper  of  sail 
and  rigging,  our  broadside  barked  again,  and 
again  we  wore,  for  Blakely  saw  the  enemy  at 
her  old  trick,  trying  to  cross  our  bows. 
Slowly  we  went  this  time,  like  a  wounded 
duck,  and  for  a  minute  the  thought  came  to 
me,  hot  and  busy  as  I  was,  that  we  'd  our 
hands  more  than  full  this  time.  Again  we 
got  her  starboard  guns,  and  again  and  again 
we  spoke  back  from  our  port  battery.  'T  was 
not  so  furious  and  fast  as  in  the  Reindeer 
and  Avon  fights,  but  't  was  harder  hitting, 
that  is,  harder  on  us,  at  any  rate.  And  when 
the  deep  roar  of  the  broadsides  would  cease 
for  a  minute,  the  nasty  rattle  and  slam  of 
musketry  kept  the  dance  going. 

Our  topmen  were  like  all  Yankee  topmen, 
the  best  of  their  kind,  and  fairly  kept  the 
tops  ablaze,  but  they  were  suffering  too,  and* 
now  and  again  one  of    them  would  come 
head  first  to  the  deck. 

"  Look  alive,"  yelled  my  gun  captain,  and 
hauled  me  to  one  side  as  I  was  stooping  to 


Will  o'  the  Wasp 


lift  a  shot,  and  crash  on  the  deck,  head  first, 
came  what  was  Dick  Allen.  His  brains  flew 
right  and  left  over  the  men  who  'd  laughed 
with  him  that  night  at  mess. 

'T  was  but  one  of  a  dozen  sights  like  it. 
We  were  suffering  above  and  below,  and  an 
other  broadside  dismounted  the  shifting 
carronade  and  flung  it  athwart  its  gunner, 
pinning  him,  shrieking,  to  the  deck,  like  a 
big  dog  gone  mad  and  throttling  its  master. 

We  saw  it  all,  but  could  not  stop  to  think 
of  it.  Our  gun  was  red  hot,  but  it  had  no 
rest,  no  more  than  we.  Our  crippled  broad 
side  spoke  again  ;  't  was  like  the  voice  of  a 
man  with  his  best  teeth  gone,  but  't  was  the 
well  known  voice  none  the  less. 

"  Oh,  my  God,"  says  Mr.  Tillinghast,  who 
stood  behind  me,  "  if  there  was  something 
to  show  us  how  she  's  getting  it.  She  must 
be  cut  up,  too,  she  must  be,"  he  says,  al 
most  crying,  brave  man  as  he  was.  Ah,  that 
was  it,  we  knew  how  we  were  faring,  but  we 
could  n't  see  how  deep  we  bit. 

Suddenly  there  came  a  lull,  and  then  all 


214  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


of  a  moment  the  smoke  was  cleft  by  flashes 
that  came  from  due  ahead.  The  enemy  had 
run  across  our  bows  and  raked  us  fore  and 
aft! 

Guns  leaped  from  their  trucks,  the  wood 
of  the  galley  .and  the  boats  flew  through  the 
air,  men  dropped  about  us  like  flies,  and  a 
voice  yelled  loud  and  shrill — "  We  've  struck, 
we  Ve  struck !  " 

I  turned  and  howled ;  what  I  said  I  don't 
know,  't  was  blasphemy,  I  guess ;  right  in 
the  teeth  of  death  a  man  will  take  God's 
name  and  never  mean  it,  and  I  was  not  alone. 
Men  who  were  lying  half  dead  about  the  gun 
raised  themselves  and  cursed. 

"  No,  no,  no  !  "  they  yelled,  and  a  bloody 
tar,  whose  leg  was  hanging  by  a  shred 
dragged  himself  half  way  across  the  deck. 

"  Where  's  the  cursed  coward  who  says 
we've  struck?"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  weak 
with  lost  blood  and  husky  with  rage. 

"  Where  is  he,  damn  him  ?  Let  me  get  a 
shot  at  him,"  then  I  saw  him  level  a  pistol 
and  fire.  Some  one  yelled  and  dropped  in 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  215 


a  heap  on  the  deck  from  the  shrouds  where 
he  'd  been  clinging. 

"  'T  is  Pico,  the  Portugee,"  says  the 
gun  captain  to  me,  very  quiet,  the  quiet  of  a 
man  who  saves  his  breath  to  fight  with — "  no 
Chesapeake  business  here,"  and  just  then 
down  the  deck  hurries  a  man  I  'd  never 
known  before.  "  Never  known,"  say  I, 
though  't  was  Captain  Johnston  Blakely,  but 
a  stranger  was  he  to  me  in  his  mood  this  mo 
ment.  His  uniform  was  half  torn  away,  he 
was  black  and  grimy  from  working  at  some 
gun,  his  head  dripped  blood  from  a  splinter 
wound,  and  nothing  was  bright  and  ship 
shape  aboard  him  but  his  eyes.  God,  how 
they  shone  ! 

"Get  aloft,  get  aloft,"  he  yelled,  "leave 
your  guns,  get  aloft.  We  must  wear  ship, 
lads,  and  quick,  quick,  quick  !  "  he  shouted, 
and  like  the  great  man  he  was,  the  man  of 
hands,  as  well  as  heart  and  head,  he  jumps 
into  the  rigging,  and  the  few  of  us  left  able 
to,  followed  him. 

'T  was  God's  mercy  we  were  still  pretty 


216  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


sound  above.  The  British  had  .fired  low  for 
the  first  time  in  our  cruise,  and  their  good 
gunnery  stood  us  in  this  time.  Like  a  thing 
that  goes  by  instinct,  though  sick  and  dy 
ing,  the  good  Wasp  wore,  and  as  she  wore, 
we  came  down  to  deck  anyway,  by  shrouds, 
by  ropes,  by  jumping  and  dropping,  got  to 
our  gun,  there  was  just  one  left  of  the  port 
battery,  my  old  pet  six,  and  let  her  drive. 
She  did  n't  speak  again  ;  with  the  discharge 
she  burst,  and  my  gun  captain  died  along 
side  of  her. 

But  she  had  her  say  before  she  went. 

What  she  did  I  never  knew  till  later,  but 
there  came  a  thundering  sound  as  of  powder 
blowing  up  and  a  cry  from  the  frigate  after 
it,  shrill  and  high,  and  then  for  a  minute  all 
was  still  but  the  panting  and  groaning  that 
came  from  the  deck  like  the  noise  of  a  gale 
in  the  rigging. 

I  was  not  hit,  nor  touched  even — why,  I 
can't  tell.  But  I  was  red  with  the  blood  of 
better  men  than  me,  and  black  with  sweat 
and  the  grime  of  the  best  gun  that  ever  sang 
in  a  broadside. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  217 


I  looked  about  me.  There  was  a  little 
group  near  the  quarter-deck.  A  knot  of 
marines  were  huddled  with  some  pikemen 
just  abaft  the  mizzen,  and  two  men  stood  a 
little  apart  from  them.  One  was  Blakely 
and  one  McKnight. 

Just  then  the  breeze  freshened  for  a  min 
ute  into  a  strange  little  sucking,  swirling 
gust,  the  smoke  lifted,  and  there,  close  along 
side,  lay  the  ship  that  we  were  fighting.  Ouj- 
deck  was  a  slaughter-house,  but  so  was  theirs 
as  well,  and  her  sails  were  ribbons,  her  main 
mast  gone,  and  she  was  afire. 

Cheer  !  How  the  poor  lads  tried  to  cheer 
when  we  saw  it,  but  the  noise  was  more  like 
gasping.  Afire  she  was,  and  her  men  run 
ning  about  like  mad  devils,  working  over 
the  flames ;  but  none  the  less  we  saw  that 
she  was  coming  aboard  and  that  her  boarders 
were  gathered  in  the  bows.  I  saw  Blakely 
turn  and  hold  his  hand  to  McKnight,  and 
then  "  Stand  by  to  repel  boarders,"  came 
along  the  deck. 

'T  was  like  the  resurrection  trumpet. 

Men  who   were  lying  half   stunned  and 


2i8  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


faint  from  blood  staggered  onto  their  feet, 
gripping  the  bulwarks  or  whatever  came 
handy  to  steady  by.  Pikemen  and  marines 
who  'd  lain  close  waiting  for  this  moment 
jumped  up.  Poor  beggars,  they  'd  seen  their 
friends  die  around  'em  by  the  score,  and  no 
hand  in  the  game  themselves.  But  now 
their  turn  had  come,  and  as  the  frigate's  bow 
cut  upon  our  port  quarter  and  her  great 
bowsprit  ripped  and  tore  among  our  ropes 
and  tackle,  they  ran  yelling  to  the  point 
where  already  the  British  were  pouring 
aboard.  They  'd  stored  their  fight  so  long, 
our  lads,  they  'd  boiled  and  raged  so  long 
inside,  that  they  were  madmen.  I  was  with 
them  ;  every  man  left  of  the  port  battery 
was  there,  for  the  guns  had  gone,  and  our 
chance  now  lay  in  cutlass  and  pike. 

'T  was  desperate  hard  fighting.  Twice 
we  beat  'em  back,  but  the  third  time  they 
came  again  and  stronger  yet.  We  were 
driven  aft,  inch  by  inch  ;  in  a  minute  they  'd 
ha'  been  in  possession  of  the  ship,  when  the 
Lord  sent  the  mizzentop,  shot  through  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  219 


through,  and  heavy  as  lead  with  its  weight 
of  dead  topmen,  thundering  into  the  very 
midst  of  them.  Some  were  killed  outright, 
some  sprang  into  the  sea  to  escape,  some 
were  cut  off  from  the  others  and  left  to  us, 
and  we  gave  account  for  each  man.  The  two 
ships  were  parallel,  for  the  push  of  the 
frigate's  bow  had  straightened  our  course, 
so  that  we  were  lying  in  the  wallow  of  the 
sea,  side  to  side.  'T  was  our  own  chance  to 
board,  and  Blakely  knew  it.  "  Boarders 
away,"  he  roared,  and  up  we  swarmed. 

I  say  swarmed,  't  is  but  a  word  I  use  be 
cause  it  comes  handy.  There  was  no  swarm 
of  us,  the  Lord  knows.  But  what  were 
there  were  true  "  wasps,"  and  had  stings. 
Some  of  the  lads  jumped  for  their  deck.  I 
made  a  dash  at  an  open  port  whose  gun  had 
been  knocked  off  its  truck.  I  thought  there 
were  others  behind  me.  I  heard  some  one 
climbing  and  panting.  Some  one  passed  me 
quickly,  and  in  the  smoke  of  the  musketry 
that  rattled  from  their  decks,  in  the  smoke 
and  flying  cinders  of  the  smouldering  fire, 


220  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


for  the  British  had  put  out  the  flames,  a 
figure  like  a  boy's  jumped  by  me  into  the 
open  port. 

I  thought  't  was  John  Rawlins,  a  lad  of 
but  eighteen  ;  we  had  a  number  of  such 
aboard,  and  I  yelled  and  followed  after. 
When,  as  I  jumped,  and  landed  by  the  dis 
mounted  gun,  the  figure  turned,  and  like  a 
flash  a  cutlass  swung  and  struck  me  over  the 
head.  I  fell  like  a  log,  but  before  the  blow 
took  me  I  saw  the  lad  was  none  but  Nancy 
Barker. 

I  was  stunned  for  a  few  minutes,  but  I 
came  to  before  long,  and  as  I  raised  myself 
on  my  hands  and  looked  out  the  port  I  saw 
and  heard  the  same  noises  that  sang  in  my 
ears  when  I  went  down.  Musket  firing  and 
clash  of  steel  and  shouting  of  seamen.  We 
were  still  alongside  and  I  could  see  right  out 
on  the  deck  of  my  old  ship  ;  't  was  an  easy 
trick,  for  her  bulwarks  were  torn  away  in 
places  like  lacework.  Both  ships  lay  almost 
without  headway.  I  knew  the  Wasp  had 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  221 


quit  minding  her  helm,  and  my  thought  was 
the  enemy  had  as  well. 

"  If  once  we  could  get  ahead,  turn  and 
come  back  with  our  starboard  guns  a-bear- 
ing/'  I  says  to  myself,  "the  game  's  ours; 
but  then  if  she  does  and  we  don't,  it  's  the 
end  for  us." 

I  say  I  thought  this,  if  I  thought  anything. 
Sometimes  I  think  all  this  came  to  me  after 
wards,  for  I  was  little  better  than  dead  as 
I  leaned  against  the  broken  gun-truck. 
Everything  looked  like  one  of  those  toys 
they  give  children,  that  you  turn  and  shake 
and  all  sorts  of  changes  and  colors  come 
and  shift  and  go.  I  saw  lights  flash  when 
muskets  cracked,  I  saw  men  running  to  and 
fro  upon  our  decks.  I  saw  them  cutting  and 
thrusting  at  other  men — I  saw  them  drop 
and  I  saw  them  sometimes  stagger  to  their 
feet  again.  Then  all  would  be  quiet  except 
for  the  noise  the  men  would  make,  panting 
and  groaning  and  wailing.  Then  all  seemed 
to  begin  again,  but  fainter  each  time.  As  I 
write  it  now  it  seems  to  me  like  two  men 


222  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


I  've  seen  clinched  in  wrestling,  resting  and 
struggling,  stopping  for  breath  and  then  to 
it  once  more. 

I  guess  I  fainted  again — something  hap 
pened — just  what,  is  hard  to  tell,  but  I  be 
came  aware  that  the  ships  were  drifting 
apart  or  we  were  going  ahead.  That  was  it 
— we  were  going  ahead  in  a  wind  that  fresh 
ened,  and  I  knew  now  that  the  fight  was 
over,  or  soon  must  be.  The  musket  fire 
broke  out  afresh  from  above  my  head.  I 
heard  men  calling  to  one  another  and  cursing 
the  bloody  Yankees  as  the  Wasp  dragged 
by.  Not  a  man  did  I  see  upon  her  decks 
astir.  But  now  and  again  a  flash  would 
come  from  her  foretop  and  a  ball  would 
whistle  and  spit  upon  the  frigate's  decks. 

Slowly  the  battered  sloop  crept  by.  A 
lantern  or  two  gleamed  amidships,  and  one 
still  swung  farther  aft.  In  the  stillness,  for 
though  all  was  not  quiet,  't  was  stillness 
alongside  of  what  had  been,  I  could  hear  the 
wounded  and  dying,  and  see  here  and  there 
a  man  rolling  and  twisting  in  the  death  grip. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  223 


Would  we  escape,  I  wondered,  would  Blakely 
try  and  bring  his  starboard  guns  to  use? 
What  good  was  that,  I  thought ;  no  men  to 
serve  'em,  and  Blakely,  where  was  he  now  ? 

Slowly  the  Wasp  slipped  by,  and  then  as 
she  drifted  away  into  the  night,  I  saw,  stand 
ing  by  a  stern-chaser,  erect  and  quiet,  life 
in  every  line  of  him,  my  Captain,  Johnston 
Blakely.  Not  a  gun,  not  a  pistol-shot  came 
from  sloop  or  frigate.  Not  a  word,  and  even 
the  groans  of  the  wounded  seemed  less  to 
me.  Faint  and  hanging  against  the  broken 
gun-truck,  I  strained  my  eyes  after  the  sloop 
as  she  crept  by,  and  the  man  who  fought  her 
as  well  as  he  loved  her,  and  that  is  enough 
to  say.  The  wind  that  was  getting  fitful 
swirled  a  cloud  of  the  overhanging  smoke 
down  upon  the  frigate.  When  it  lifted  no 
Wasp  was  there. 

No  sound  now  that  was  n't  human  was  to 
be  heard,  nothing  but  cries  and  groans,  and 
now  and  then  orders  not  sharp  and  loud,  but 
you  might  almost  say  whispered,  in  voices 
hoarse  and  choked  and  weak.  I  don't  know 


224  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


how  the  sloop  pushed  ahead  and  away,  unless 
't  was  because  she  was  lighter  and  easier 
drifted.  I  remember  little  more,  and  that 
little  is  that  I  crept  away  myself  into  the 
darkness  of  the  gun-deck  and  among  men 
that  groaned  as  I  touched  them  in  the  dark, 
and  others  that  lay  still  and  did  not  groan 
nor  speak.  I  seemed  to  recall  later,  a  noise 
as  though  the  wind  were  singing  high,  aloft, 
and  that  there  was  the  roll  of  a  heavier  sea 
outside. 


CHAPTER  XL 

HOW    I    CAME    ON   PAROLE    TO    PLYMOUTH 
TOWN. 

1  KNEW  nothing  more  till  I  sat  up  in  a 
bunk  and  looking  around  saw  faces  I 
did  n't  recognize  and  knew  that  I  had  n't 
been  dreaming. 

"  Be  quiet  now,  my  man,"  said  a  voice  be 
hind  me,  "  you  're  going  to  pull  through — 
thick  head-pieces  you  Yankees  carry  about 
— now  then,  lie  still ;  yes,  you  're  a  prisoner, 
if  you  want  to  know,  aboard  His  Majesty's 
frigate,  Sardis,  and  we  're  being  pretty  care 
ful  of  you,  for  you  're  the  only  one  we  Ve 
got.  Now  then,  lie  quiet,  for  there  's  some 
questions  got  to  be  asked  you  by  and  by." 

The  man  who  spoke  to  me  was  a  surgeon 
— rough  he  was,  but  a  kind  man,  too.  I  lay 
quiet,  what  else  was  there  to  do,  and  what 
*s  225 


226  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


with  a  buzz  in  my  head  that  whirled  and 
had  bright  colors  in  it  when  I  stirred  much, 
my  mind  did  but  little  work  all  that  day,  and 
this  was  three  days  after  our  fight,  they  told 
me  later.  But  next  day  I  was  more  myself, 
and  the  surgeon,  Carr  was  his  name,  told  me 
the  Captain  was  coming  to  talk  to  me. 

Now  here  's  a  strange  thing  to  tell, — 
whether  I  was  cracked  in  mind  as  well  as 
head  ;  whether  my  weakness  and  the  flurry 
of  a  British  bigwig  a  pumping  me,  got  hold 
of  me,  I  don't  know,  but  sink  me  if  I  could 
remember  what  ship  I  'd  been  on  or  where 
I  'd  been  cruising,  or  how  long.  All  that 
would  come  to  me  was  that  I  'd  served 
aboard  the  Essex,  and  't  was  her  I  thought 
the  Sardis  had  engaged. 

"  My  man,"  says  the  British  captain, 
"  what 's  your  ship  ?  " 

"The  Essex,  your  honor,"  says  I. 

"  Don't  lie,  you  hound,"  he  says,  very  hot. 
"  The  Essex  was  took  five  months  ago. 
Where  have  you  been  cruising?  " 

"  The  South  Seas,  your  honor." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  227 


He  ripped  out  an  oath.  "  I  '11  find  a  way 
to  make  you  tell  the  truth,"  says  he,  "  if  you 
try  that  game  again  with  me,"  he  says. 
"  Now  your  ship  was  the  Wasp,  your  captain 
was  Blakely,  you  Ve  been  in  the  Channel 
Chops  and  off  Fayal,  so  you  see  I  know  all 
that.  Now  tell  me  what  weight  of  metal  did 
ye  carry  ?  " 

"  We  had  thirty-two  guns,  sir." 

"Ah,"  he  says,  chuckling,  "  Carr,  't  was  as 
good  as  a  frigate,  and  but  little  lighter  than 
us.  Go  on  ?  " 

"We  'd  255  men  aboard,  for  a  few  were  in 
the  Essex  Junior" 

"You  damn  Yankee,"  he  shouted,  jump 
ing  up.  "Did  you  hear  me?  You  '11  get 
ten  dozen  if  you  don't  stow  your  bloody  lies 
about  the  Essex.  Now  harkye,  no  more. 
What  's  your  weight,  tell  me  and  tell  me 
true." 

I  lay  back  on  the  bed.  It 's  God's  own 
truth,  I  could  n't  get  to  my  mind  what  he 
wanted  me  to.  The  Essex  was  clear  enough, 
but  the  Wasp  was  n't  even  as  much  as  a 


228  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


dream.  I  guess  I  looked  pretty  pale  and 
badly  used  up,  for  Mr.  Carr  speaks  out : 

"  Captain,"  he  says,  "  this  man  's  too  weak 
to  talk  to  like  a  well  man — he  's  maybe  a 
stubborn  dog,  but  leave  him  to  me,  I  '11  get 
word  from  him,"  he  says,  and  the  Captain 
left  us.  Later  in  the  day,  the  Surgeon  comes 
in  and  sits  down  by  me  and  gives  me  a  drink 
of  something  that  hearts  me  up  a  bit. 

"  Now,"  says  he,  "  my  man,  I  '11  tell  you 
what  went  on  four  nights  ago,  and  maybe,  as 
a  lawyer  'd  say,  '  't  will  refresh  your  memory.' 

"  At  seven  o'clock  we  sighted  a  ship,  cor 
vette  build,  that  came  down  fast  and  steady 
to  us.  Later  we  signalled  with  lanterns  and 
got  no  answer.  Then  by  and  by  we 
hailed  and  got  reply  that  't  was  the  United 
States  sloop-o'-war,  Wasp.  Now,"  says  he, 
"  don't  that  jog  your  memory  ?" 

"  Well,"  says  he,  for  I  lay  still,  not  yet  get 
ting  my  bearings,  "  about  nine  o'clock  we 
engaged  you  and  there  was  hell's  delight  for 
the  next  hour  and  a  half.  We  shot  your 
main  top  off  and  the  mizzen  as  well,  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  229 


raked  you  fore  and  aft,  and  you  set  us  afire 
and  carried  away  our  mainmast,  silenced  our 
starboard  battery  and  played  the  devil  among 
the  Leslies  generally,"  says  he,  "  now  do  you 
get  into  the  wind  ?  Not  yet,  hay  ?  " 

"  Then  we  boarded  and  came  back  again, 
and  then  you  came  aboard  through  a  port, 
don't  you  remember  now,  and  got  your  nut 
sliced  as  you  came.  What,  you  beggar, 
don't  you  take  yet  ?  " 

"  Doctor,"  says  I,  "  I  know  there  's  some 
thing  I  can't  bring  back — I  know  it 's  there, 
and  I  guess  what  you  say  is  likely  it,  but  I 
can't,  so  help  me,  patch  it  up." 

"  Well,  well,"  says  he,  "  as  long  as  you 
give  up  your  yarn  about  the  Essex  you  're 
getting  along.  But  I  say,  my  man,"  says  he 
suddenly,  as  if  an  idea  had  struck  him, 
"  don't  you  remember  a  pretty  lass  as  had 
been  aboard  your  ship — Nancy  Barker  ?  " 

Ah,  it  was  coming  back  now,  coming  so 
that  I  put  my  hands  across  my  face  and 
groaned  and  twisted  on  the  bunk.  'T  was 
coming  back,  that  fearful  night,  the  bloody 


230  Wilt  o'  the  Wasp 


ruck  of  the  Wasp's  deck,  the  useless  guns 
burst  or  dismounted,  the  swivel  carronade 
atop  its  gunner,  the  burning  frigate,  and  the 
falling  topmast,  my  leap  into  the  port,  and 
my  last  sight  of  Nancy  as  she  swung  her  cut 
lass  round. 

When  a  little  time  had  gone  and  I  took 
my  hand  from  my  face  and  looked  at  the 
Surgeon,  he  knew  from  my  eyes  that  the 
compass  was  lighted  again  and  I  could  lay  a 
course.  He  sat  back  in  his  chair  and  laughed 
a  bit ;  he  was  a  kind  man,  though  rough. 

"  By  the  Lord,"  says  he,  "  there  's  human 
nature !  A  woman's  name  will  bring  back 
what  even  a  tale  of  glory  won't — for  lad," 
says  he,  leaning  over  towards  me, "  I  'm  a 
loyal  servant  of  King  George,  but  I  can  ad 
mire  pluck  and  courage  in  an  enemy,  all  the 
more  if  he  's  got  much  the  same  blood  as  I, 
and  I  tell  you  't  was  glory,  glory,  no  less, 
that  your  Captain,  God  rest  him,  wherever  he 
is,  got  three  days  agone.  You  're  smaller 
than  we,  I  know  well,"  says  he,  "  and  yet 
't  was  nip  and  tuck.  Now  then,  can  you  tell 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  231 


us  what  your  metal  was,  the  girl  was  too 
shaken  up  to  just  recall." 

'  The  girl,"  I  cries,  "  Nancy !  " 

"  Aye,  aye,"  says  he,  looking  sharp  at  me, 
"  the  lass  we  put  aboard  the  Cawnpore, 
Indiaman,  the  day  after  the  fight,  her  and 
our  wounded — we  kept  you,  my  boy,  for 
information,  and  we  wanted  it  bad  enough 
to  give  you  a  cabin  to  yourself  so  as  to  save 
your  precious  hide,  for  that  same,"  says  he, 
laughing  again,  "  so  just  loosen  up  and  let  *s 
have  a  little  now." 

"  Just  one  thing,  Doctor,"  says  I  very 
quiet,  "  did  she  know  I  was  aboard  ?  " 

"  She  ?  'T  aint  likely  !  You  were  never 
found  till  she  'd  left  the  ship.  You  were 
stowed  away  under  a  devil's  own  hamper  of 
truck,  and  came  within  an  ace  of  going  over 
board  in  a  canvas  nightshirt  too — but  come, 
come,  Captain  Henderson's  waiting  for  that 
information,  speak  up,  my  lad,  and  lively  as 
may  be.  What  was  your  armament  ?  " 

"  Eleven  guns  broadside,  stern-chasers,  and 
a  swivel  carronade,  sir," 


232  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  Come,  come,  don't  lie  to  me,"  says  he, 
very  stern. 

"  As  God  's  my  judge,"  I  says,  raising  my 
right  hand. 

He  gave  a  long  whistle — "  Well,  and  how 
many  men  ?  " 

"  One  hundred  and  sixty-eight,  sir." 

He  got  up  and  took  a  step  about  the 
cabin,  there  was  room  for  but  just  one  step, 
and  then  sat  down. 

"  What 's  your  name  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Bill  Fry,  sir." 

"  Where  born  ?  " 

"  Biddeford." 

"  Oh  ho,  a  Devon  man — I  daresay  there 
were  plenty  more  English  aboard  the  Wasp 
as  well?" 

I  got  a  little  hot,  weak  as  I  was. 

"  Doctor,"  says  I,  "  I  'm  from  Biddeford, 
true  enough,  but  the  Biddeford  I  hail  from 
is  in  the  State  of  Maine,  and  as  for  the  rest 
of  the  crew,  barring  a  yellow  cur  of  a  Portu- 
gee,  that  Bob  Lowther  shot  dead  for  cow 
ardice  in  the  action  with  you,  the  crew  was 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  233 


American  from  New  England  to  the  last 
man,"  I  says.  "  Captain  Blakely  was  from 
Ireland,  came  over  a  baby,"  says  I. 

"  Well,  well,  well,  be  cool !  "  says  he,  quite 
friendly,  "  it  's  all  the  same  blood  whichever 
way.  And  I  'm  glad  Blakely  was  Irish,"  says 
he,  "  for  I  'm  that  myself,  and  I  swear,"  says 
he,  "  my  lad,  it  's  proud  I  am  he  did  n't 
strike  your  blasted  old  gridiron,  too,"  says 
he. 

"  What,  sir?  "  says  I,  "  did  n't  you  take  the 
Wasp  ?  " 

"  Take  her !  Not  a  bit,"  says  he,  "  don't 
you  remember, — but  of  course,  poor  devil, 
how  could  you  ? — she  slipped  away  and  the 
wind  came  up  heavy  ;  she  was  drifting  only, 
I  fancy,  but  though  we  looked  for  her  in  the 
morning — for  Captain  Henderson  's  a  game 
man,  though  I  don't  like  him,"  says  he,  half 
to  himself,  "  and  was  bound  he  'd  have  her  at 
last.  She  was  out  of  sight  at  daybreak,  and, 
Bill,"  says  he,  quite  solemn,  for  my  face 
showed  how  I  felt,  "  a  ship  crippled  like 
tier  makes  sail  and  goes  fast  to  just  one  port, 


234  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


Davy  Jones's,  God  rest  'em,"  he  adds,  "  what 
was  left  of  'em  !  " 

I  could  n't  say  a  word,  but  turned  on  my 
side.  I  saw  again  my  last  sight  of  my  dear 
old  ship, — for  I  'd  got  to  love  her  next  to 
Nancy ;  aye,  that  's  a  true  word, — and  the 
face  of  Captain  Blakely  looking  at  us  from 
the  quarter-deck,  quiet,  but  unafraid  and  un 
beaten,  as  the  sloop  crawled  away. 

"  Bill,"  says  the  Surgeon,  as  he  got  up  to 
go,  "  I  '11  try  to  have  you  put  aboard  some 
ship  bound  to  England  if  we  meet  one — 
you  Ve  money,  I  see."  I  had  slipped  some 
and  my  little  log-book  inside  my  shirt  when 
we  went  into  action — sometimes  I  think 
't  was  a  forethought  of  what  was  to  come 
made  me  do  so. 

"  Well,  money  and  a  civil  tongue  will  keep 
you  safe  enough  in  Old  England  till  this 
family  row  is  done.  Let  me  give  you  just 
a  word  of  advice.  If  Captain  Henderson 
asks  you  how  big  you  were,  say  you  carried 
sixteen  guns  broadside  and  three  hundred 
men.  The  lie  will  make  your  life  aboard 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  235 


here  easier,  and  trust  Manners's  crew,  when 
the  news  gets  out,  to  prove  't  is  a  lie,"  and 
so  he  left  me. 

Well,  a  couple  of  days  later  I  was  put 
aboard  a  brig,  the  Calypso,  from  Cadiz  to 
Plymouth,  and  the  Sardis  went  on  into  the 
harbor  of  Cadiz  which  we  were  very  near.  I 
never  saw  nor  heard  of  Dr.  Carr  again.  He 
was  a  kind,  humane  man,  and  I  guess  a  brave 
one.  He  and  all  aboard  the  Sardis  went 
down  in  a  great  gale  off  Tarifa,  trying  to 
stand  around  to  Gibraltar  to  refit  there. 

'T  is  not  a  Christian  way,  but  barring  that 
Dr.  Carr  went  down  along  with  his  ship,  the 
thought  that  the  little  Wasp  and  my  old  gun 
number  six,  made  the  Sardis  the  easy  food 
she  was  for  the  storm,  comes  to  me  again  and 
again  and  makes  me  proud. 

Well,  we  had  bad  winds  or  none,  and  on 
the  26th  of  October,  1814,  they  put  me 
ashore  in  Plymouth  .town,  thin  and  white 
and  shaky,  twenty-five  sovereigns  in  my 
pockets  and  a  hate  for  everything  I  saw  in 
my  heart,  for  all  this  time  I  'd  been  baited 


236  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


and  jeered  at  and  called  "  Yankee,"  till  I 
almost  hated  the  good  old  word.  And  I 
thought  and  thought  of  Nancy  Barker  and 
fought  down  each  day  the  fearful  question 
that  came  into  my  mind.  And  this  is  what 
that  question  was,  for  't  was  with  me  many 
a  long  night  and  day  : 

"  Did  Nancy  know  't  was  me  she  cut 
down?  If  she  did,  why,"  thinks  I,  "  I  love 
her  ever  so  dear,  even  if  so  be  our  courses 
cross  again,  that  ends  it  all,  but  if 't  was  only 
at  one  of  the  Wasp's  crew  hap-hazard,  and 
not  at  Bill  Fry  she  struck,  why  when  I  find 
her,  for  find  her  will  I,  to  take  or  leave  I  'm 
hers." 

And  I  went  from  one  tack  to  the  other 
day  in  and  out,  now  thinking  the  worst  of 
her  and  now  almost  crying  to  myself  as  I 
thought  of  her  pluck  in  jumping  aboard  the 
Sardis,  and  swinging  her  cutlass  so  hand 
some. 

Well,  I  was  some  days  in  Plymouth  lying 
quiet,  in  a  tavern  where  seafaring  men  were 
used  to  stay.  There  were  plenty  of  them  there, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  237 


the  house  was  noisy,  and  I  can't  say  for  my 
life  why  I  went  to  the  place,  for  't  was  cer 
tain  to  be  known  soon  that  I  was  American, 
but  seamen  will  get  together  whether  friends 
or  not,  and  so  to  the  "Anchor  "  came  I. 

They  gave  me  a  pretty  good  sort  of  a 
room  for  I  showed  a  fist  full  of  the  yellow 
boys,  and  for  a  few  days  I  kept  my  bunk. 
Then  I  began  to  itch  to  get  below  and  see 
the  lads  that  every  night  I  heard  roaring 
songs,  and  now  and  again  cursing  the 
Yankees  and  the  French.  Why  they  were 
cursing  the  French  just  then  I  could  n't  tell, 
for  the  two  nations  were  at  peace,  but  I 
guess  't  was  a  habit  picked  up  in  the  long 
war,  and  a  sort  of  second  nature. 

My  head  troubled  me  some  days,  but  I 
did  n't  give  it  much  thought.  I  had  my 
strength  yet,  or  part  of  It,  for  one  day  a  swab 
comes  lurching  against  my  door,  and  says  he : 

"  You  bloody  Yankee  pirate,  come  on 
deck,"  says  he,  "  and  I  '11  break  your  head 
over  again  for  you,"  he  says. 

I  just  flung  the  door  back  and  got  him  by 


238  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


the  neck  and  under  the  right  arm  and  slung 
him  down  stairs.  He  fell  hard  but  he  was  n't 
hurt,  and  by  and  by  when  he  'd  got  through 
cursing,  he  goes  away. 

I  suppose  he  told  a  lot  of  mates  below, 
for  soon  up  comes  three  or  four  and  raps  at 
my  door. 

"  Come,"  says  I,  and  picks  up  an  old  pistol 
I  'd  bought  the  day  I  came  ashore.  Well, 
they  meant  no  harm,  and  were  quite  civil 
spoken. 

"  Mate,"  says  one,  "we  hear  as  how  you 
are  an  American  seaman,  and  knowing  this 
war  is  still  a-going,  we  'd  like  to  know  just 
how  you  come  to  be  loose  in  Plymouth," 
says  he. 

"  Well,  mate,"  says  I,  "  seeing  you  're  civil 
and  don't  want  to  break  my  head,  I  '11  tell 
you.  I  have  here,"  and  I  pulls  it  out,  "  a 
parole  from  Captain  Henderson  of  the  Sardis, 
if  you  know  his  fist." 

One  steps  up.  "  I  know  it  well,"  says  he, 
"  for  I  was  purser's  clerk  aboard  a  ship  he 
served  on  once,  and  that 's  it  all  right." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  239 


"  Well,"  says  the  first  one,  "  there  's  no 
news  come  of  the  Sardis  taking  any  Yankee 
warship,  perhaps  ye  '11  tell  us  how  you  come 
to  be  captured  ?  " 

"  Come  below,"  says  the  man  who  'd  been 
purser's  clerk  and  who  was  a  bit  decenter 
dressed  and  cleaner  looking  than  the  others. 
"  Come  below  and  we  '11  have  a  go  of  rum 
or  so.  You  '11  be  treated  respectful  and  fair, 
lad,"  says  he  to  me,  "  my  word  on  that." 

So  down  we  went.  There  was  quite  a 
crowd  in  the  tap-room,  and  I  saw  as  soon  as 
I  'd  got  set  down  to  a  table  that  I  was  a 
curiosity.  We  got  our  rum,  and  one — the 
man  who  'd  first  asked  me  of  my  being  in 
Plymouth  and  whose  name  was  Hood — says, 
says  he : 

"  Here  's  to  King  George's  navy,  and  to 
hell  with —  I  don't  know  what  he  was 

going  to  say,  but  the  ex-purser's  clerk  calls 
out: 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Hood,"  says  he,  "  fair 
play  's  a  jewel,  and  here  's  a  wounded  man, 
a  Yankee,  a  drinking  with  us,  and  say  what 


240  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


any  man  will,  the  American  navy  's  little, 
but  it  's  the  right  seed  for  a  big  plant,  by 
thunder,  and  here  's  to  all  good  mariners  who 
talk  King  George's  English,  if  you  want  the 
old  boy  in  the  toast,"  says  he,  and  we  drank 
around. 

Well,  pretty  soon  the  man  who  took  our 
part,  and  who  was  called  Mr.  Stevens  by  the 
others,  says :  "  Now,  mate,"  says  he,  "  tell  us 
how  you  come  to  be  with  us.  Jack  always 
likes  a  yarn,  and  I  '11  go  bail  you  have  a  good 
one  to  spin,"  says  he. 

"  Well,"  says  I,  for  we  'd  had  a  couple  of 
rounds  by  then  and  I  was  warming  up,  "  I  '11 
tell  you  how  it  was,  Mr.  Stevens  and  mates 
and  all,"  says  I  very  friendly,  for  if  there  's 
bad  temper  in  much  rum,  there  's  lots  of 
good  humor  in  a  fair  load  as  well,  "  't  was 
this  a  way.  I  was  able-bodied  seaman  aboard 
the  Wasp " 

"  The  Wasp"  shouts  Hood,  "  the  Wasp, 
eh.  John,"  he  yells  to  the  tavern-keeper, 
"  here 's  a  man  from  the  Wasp  as  took  the  Bon 
Accord  and  lost  you  a  neat  venture,  John." 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  241 


At  this  the  man  came  cursing  across  the 
floor  and  pushed  up  against  me. 

"  What,"  says  he,  "  is  this  one  of  the 
Yankee  pirates  ?  What  's  he  doing  here,  I 
wonder?"  says  he,  cursing  and  shaking  his 
hand  at  me.  A  lot  of  the  others  joined  in, 
and  there  was  noise  and  oaths  enough  for  a 

spell.     Mr.   Stevens  had  been  kind  of  took 

i  . 

back,  I  guess,  when  he  heard  I  was  off  the 

Wasp,  and  you  'd  think,  to  hear  the  swabs, 
that  the  little  sloop  had  bankrupted  half 
Plymouth  ;  but  now  he  jumps  up  and  says, 
"  Stow  this,  stow  this,"  says  he,  "  here  's  a 
coil  about  a  wounded  man  on  parole  ;  don't 
ye  see,  you  fools,"  he  says,  "  that  if  this 
man  's  a  prisoner  on  parole  the  ship  he 
served  on  's  taken  or  sunk  ?  " 

Well,  this  quieted  them  a  bit,  but  it  stirred 
me  up. 

"  Easy,  sir,"  says  I,  "  easy,  all.  I  boarded 
the  Sardis  in  the  fight,"  says  I,  "  was  cut 
down,  and  when  the  two  crafts  drew  away 
from  each  other  I  was  lying  helpless  aboard 
the  British  ship.  Taken,  the  Wasp  was  not, 

16 


242  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


nor  could  n't  be,"  says  I,  "  by  any  king's 
ship  that  floats,"  and  here  I  got  up  and 
elbowed  the  tavern-keeper,  who  'd  been 
cursing  me,  so  he  nearly  fell  across  a  table, 
"  sunk  she  may  be,  but  the  gridiron  's  at  her 
peak,  and  you  swabs  may  tie  right  up  to 
that,"  says  I,  and  picked  up  a  chair,  for  the 
crowd  was  all  going  to  come  aboard. 

But  Stevens,  who  had  a  handy  way  of 
speech  with  him  and  some  kind  of  a  hold 
like,  in  the  tavern,  got  'em  quiet,  and  says  to 
me,  "  You  're  a  Yankee,  sure  enough,  my 
man,"  says  he,  "  for  you  Ve  got  the  gift  of 
the  brag,"  says  he. 

"  Which  they  brought  with  'em  from  Eng 
land,  and  left  plenty  and  to  spare  to  home, 
at  that,"  says  I. 

He  laughed.  "  You  're  a  blooming  impu 
dent  beggar,"  says  he,  "  but  I  like  you, 
and  /  don't  say  what  you  say  of  brag  aint 
true.  But  tell  us  more  of  the  Wasp ;  we 
know  about  the  bloody  little  craft,  but  we 
want  to  hear  more." 

Now,  just  as  he  spoke,  into  the  tavern 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  243 


comes  another  man,  dressed  like  a  gentle 
man,  in  top-boots  and  carrying  a  whip. 
"  Stevens,"  says  he,  "  I  'm  glad  to  find  you  ; 
I  rode  in  from  Bideford  to-day,  and  there  's 
a  show  there  't  would  please  all  good  mari 
ners.  And  who  's  running  it,  d'  ye  think  ? 
Why,  old  Barker's  girl,  Nancy,  who  used  to 
help  tend  at  this  old  'Anchor/  "  says  he. 

"  Who?"  says  I,  almost  tipping  the  table 
as  I  jumped  up.  Then  I  sat  down  sudden 
for  I  thought  my  best  way  to  get  news  was 
to  keep  a  close  mouth  and  listen. 

"  Why,  Nancy  Barker,  my  man,"  says  he, 
"don't  you  know  her?  Every  man  who  's 
paid  for  a  pint  in  this  inn  knows  her — but, 
Stevens,"  says  he,  paying  no  more  attention 
to  me,  "  it  's  the  show  that  pleases  me. 
She  's  got  a  house  wagon  that  she  travels  in, 
and  letters  on  the  outside  calling  her  '  Gun 
ner  Nancy,'  and  saying  she  '11  give  the  true 
account  of  how  the  famous  Yankee  ship, 
Wasp,  was  sunk,  and  how  she  took  part  in 
the  action,  and — listen  to  this — that  she  will 
exhibit  a  fearful  cutlass  encounter  between 


244  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


herself  and  one  of  the  crew  of  the  Wasp,  a 
Yankee  on  parole,  who  is  part  of  the  show. 
How  's  that  for  brass  ?  She  'd  ever  her  share, 
the  vixen,  but  this  tops  all." 

Well,  I  could  have  struck  him  for  his  tone, 
and  I  could  have  cried  for  the  thoughts  that 
sprang  into  my  mind.  But  I  held  myself 
down  and  Stevens  and  the  others  gave  a 
shout.  When  they  'd  eased  on  laughing 
Stevens  says  : 

"  Why,  Squire,"  he  says,  "  this  lad  here  's 
a  Wasp  himself,  and  claims  to  have  seen  the 
last  of  his  ship  and  got  a  sliced  coxcomb 
into  the  bargain,"  says  he. 

"  What,"  says  the  Squire,  "  is  it  so  ?  Well, 
my  man,  you  '11  remember  Nancy,  then,  for 
she  says  she  was  aboard  the  Wasp  a  prisoner 
three  months — a  nice  sort  of  prisoner  I  '11 
go  bail,  and  one  your  Captain  would  n't  be 
in  a  hurry  to  exchange,"  says  he  with  a 
grin. 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  getting  onto  my  feet,  "there 
was  a  lass  of  that  name  aboard  the  Wasp, 
and  she  was  as  safe  there,  so  far  as  decent 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  245 


treatment  goes,  as  she  would  be  here  in  her 
native  town,  aye,"  and  now  my  temper  came 
into  the  wind,  "  and  from  what  I  see  I  guess 
a  damn  sight  safer." 

"  Oh,"  says  he,  quite  cool  and  sneering, 
"  you  are  n't  talking  to  the  marines,  my 
man,  I  guess  "not,"  says  he,  mocking  me. 
"  A  likely  tale  that,"  says  he  ;  "  don't  preach 
your  Yankee  cant  to  us — what  do  you  know 
of  the  ways  of  the  ward-room — your  Captain 
had  a  good  eye  for  a  good  figure,"  says  he, 
and  the  next  minute  my  glass  broke  across 
his  face. 

Well,  I  can't  remember  all  that  took  place 
then.  I  recall  a  mix  up  of  cursing  and  pot 
throwing,  of  my  swinging  a  stool  about  my 
head,  of  getting  hit  from  front  and  behind, 
of  Stevens  howling  "  fair  play  "  from  atop 
the  table,  of  the  Squire  grappling  with  me 
and  flinging  me  out  of  the  room  under  the 
stars,  and  then  all  was  black  for  a  while. 

When  I  came  to,  a  man  was  washing  my 
face  for  me  and  gave  me  a  drop  from  a  flask. 
"What  's  wrong?"  says  I,  quite  weak;  then 


246  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


when  the  man  spoke  I  knew  't  was  the 
purser's  clerk. 

"  You  poor  devil,"  says  he,  "  they  Ve  man 
handled  you  and  no  mistake,"  says  he,  "  but 
you  're  the  biggest  fool  alive,  I  'm  thinking. 
Now,  if  you  Ve  ever  a  bundle  upstairs,  I  '11 
fetch  it  for  you  here,  don't  ye  stir  till  I  come, 
don't  go  back  into  the  tap-room,  or  they  '11 
maybe  kill  you.  I  '11  get  your  kit  and  you  'd 
best  tramp.  Get  out  of  this  town  and  keep 
out,  for  the  place  is  no  fit  one  for  a  man  that 
can't  hold  his  tongue  with  his  life  on  the 
game.  Don't  stir  till  I  come  back." 

Off  he  goes  and  I  began  to  feel  myself 
over.  I  'd  been  kicked  and  beat  and 
mauled,  but  no  great  harm  was  done,  though 
my  old  wound  had  bled  a  bit.  I  was  stiff 
and  sore,  but  well  minded  to  get  out  of 
Plymouth  if  I  had  to  foot  it.  I  felt  for  my 
purse,  and  't  was  still  in  my  breeches  pocket. 
In  a  minute  Stevens  came  back  with  my 
bundle. 

"  Now,"  says  he,  "  Bill  Fry,  you  'd  best  be 
moving.  Keep  straight  down  the  alley  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  247 


you  '11  hit  the  street  ;  bear  to  the  nor'west 
and  you  '11  be  in  the  country  in  half  an  hour. 
There  *s  not  such  a  bad  inn  at  Meavey,  '  The 
Plowshare/  and  you  can  put  up  there  for 
the  night  ;  but  get  out  of  this  neighborhood 
as  soon  as  may  be,"  says  he. 

"  Thankee,  kindly,"  says  I ;  "  you  're  a 
man,  sir,  and  a  seaman,"  says  I ;  "  and  I 
hope  I  may  some  time  do  a  good  turn  by 
you  ;  one  thing,  sir,"  says  I,  "  is  it  the  Bide- 
ford  road  ?  " 

He  looked  at  me,  and  I  thought  in  the 
dim  light  he  was  laughing.  "  Looking  for 
the  lass,  eh  ?  "  says  he ;  "  leave  her  alone, 
my  lad,  for  a  shrew  she  always  was  and 
always  will  be." 

"  One  thing,  sir,"  says  I  ;  "  shrew  she  may 
be,  but  I  Ve  heard  tell  she  was  honest." 

"  Oh,  you  have,  eh  ?  "  said  he,  and  then  he 
laughed,  but  kindly  like,  "  well,"  says  he, 
"  as  you  Yankees  say,  I  guess  she  is,  I  only 
guess  you  understand.  She  was  always  a 
good  enough  lass,  bar  her  temper,  but  vixen 
and  shrew  she  is,  my  boy,  and — good  luck  to 


248  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


you,"  says  he,  as  he  shook  my  hand  and 
turned  away  towards  the  inn. 

By  ten  that  night,  nigh  dropping  with 
weariness,  I  came  to  the  "  Plowshare  "  at 
Meavey,  and  for  sight  of  a  couple  of  crowns 
got  lodging  and  a  supper.  Next  morning, 
stiff  as  I  was,  I  was  out  and  headed  along 
the  pike  for  Bideford.  'T  was  a  sweet  day, 
cool  and  bright.  The  fields  were  like  our 
fields  in  spring,  and  now  and  again  I  'd  see 
roses  blooming  plenty.  Folks  eyed  me  close 
sometimes,  and  some  would  cross  the  road 
as  I  came  by.  I  guess  I  looked  hard,  and  if 
I  looked  what  I  felt  I  must  ha'  been  no 
pleasant  man  to  see. 

If  't  was  fine  weather  outside  there  was 
foul  in  my  heart.  Here  was  a  rough-tongued 
young  swab  talking  of  Nancy  as  if  she  were 
all  that  I  would  give  my  life  to  ha'  kept  her 
from.  Here  was  she  a-travelling  about  with 
some  man  in  tow,  bold  as  brass,  likely  to  be 
insulted  any  time  and,  as  I  write  now,  I  can 
remember  what"  I  felt  when  it  came  to  me 
then,  that  maybe  she  could  n't  rightly  be 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  249 


insulted,  and  was  no  better  than  she  'd  be 
taken  for.  I  wished  a  dozen  times  I  'd  shot 
her  as  she  swung  her  cutlass  over  me  in  the 
Sardis  frigate,  aye,  and  laid  myself  dead  along 
side.  But  see  her  I  'd  made  up  my  mind  to. 
I  'd  ask  her  two  or  three  things,  come  what 
would.  And  I  almost  forgot  my  wound  and 
my  bruises  as  I  limped  along  in  the  dust. 

That  night  I  slept  at  a  tavern  just  outside 
the  town  of  Okehampton.  The  next  day's 
jog  would  fetch  me  into  Bideford. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

HOW  I  FOUND  NANCY,  AND  DROPPED 
ANCHOR. 

'T'  H  E  next  day  was  another  fair  one.  'T  was 
market  day,  too,  and  there  were  many 
carts  upon  the  road.  Once  in  a  while  I  'd 
get  a  ride  ;  one  farmer  knowing  me  for  a 
sailor,  took  me  from  Merton  to  Torrington, 
nigh  on  to  six  miles,  I  should  guess,  so  I 
made  good  time. 

At  Torrington,  outside  the  "  White  Boar  " 
tavern,  I  stood  talking  a  little  with  the  old 
lad  who  'd  given  me  a  lift,  but  who  would 
take  nothing  for  it  but  a  double  pint  of  ale, 
when  up  rolls  a  coach  with  a  lot  of  jolly, 
handsome-dressed  bucks  a-top.  They  shouted 
for  liquor,  and  a  neat-looking  girl  came  out 
to  serve  'em.  After  they  'd  drunk  and  joked 
with  the  lass,  and  lighted  up  pipes,  and  were 
250 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  251 


about  to  drive  on,  one  of  them  whose  sleeve 
hung  loose  caught  sight  of  me. 

"  Hold  on,  Dick,"  says  he  to  the  buck 
driving,  "  let  me  have  a  word  or  two  with 
that  fellow  yonder." 

("  Bill,"  says  I  to  me,  "  keep  your  temper 
and  talk  smooth  and  respectful.") 

"  Here,  you,"  calls  he,  "  you  're  a  seaman, 
what  are  you  doing  inshore  when  there  's  a 
bloody  war  on  the  seas  ?  "  says  he. 

"  Beg  your  pardon,  sir,"  says  I,  "  but  I  'm 
only  going  down  Bideford  way,  on  a  short 
leave,  to  see  a  friend,"  said  I,  "  and  I  Ve  a 
bit  of  cut  here,  sir,  that  keeps  me  ashore 
awhile."  I  lifted  my  hat  and  let  them  see 
the  bloody  bandage  across  my  crown. 

"  Well,  well,"  said  the  gentleman  with  one 
arm,  in  a  softer  voice,  "  I  see  you  're  no  shirk, 
which  I  swear  I  took  you  for.  Where  did 
the  cutlass  come  from  that  gave  you  that  ?  " 

"  From  a  Yankee  ship,  sir ;  do  you  know 
the  Wasp?" 

"  Do  I  know  her,  begad  ?  "  says  he,  with  a 
laugh  ;  "  look  at  this,"  and  he  swung  his 


252  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


sleeve  in  the  air ;  "  I  lost  that  aboard  the 
Reindeer" 

The  look  on  my  face  as  he  said  this  would 
have  made  him  wonder,  I  guess,  but  just 
then,  "  Oh,  come,  come,  George,"  calls  two 
or  three  on  the  coach,  "  we  '11  be  late  for  the 
fun,  and  we  Ve  heard  about  that  Reindeer 
fight  too  often  already  ;  stow  it,  as  you  sailors 
say — Drive  on,  Dicky."  And  the  coach  rolled 
away,  the  gentleman  with  the  one  arm  swear 
ing  plenty  at  his  friends  and  they  a-laughing 
and  swearing  a  stave  or  two  themselves. 

"  They  be  gay  lads,"  says  the  farmer  that 
had  given  me  the  lift,  "  and  one  of  them,  the 
boy  with  the  arm  gone,  was  officer  aboard 
one  of  the  King's  ships  and  lost  his  arm  in  a 
sea-fight.  He  lives  with  his  father,  old  Sir 
George,  back  of  Yarborough — Warmouth 
Hall  is  the  place — They  '11  be  going,  those 
lads  to  hear  the  lass  talk  and  play  broad 
swords, — the  one  who  calls  herself  Gunner 
Nancy,  you  '11  maybe  have  seen  her  down 
Plymouth  way  ?  " 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  she  's  not  been  there  yet, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  253 


but  tell  me,  mate,  what  kind  of  a  raree  show 
't  is,"  says  I,  hoping  to  get  a  little  news  from 
the  old  lad. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  the  lass  goes  about  in 
her  little  house  wagon  and  there  's  a  chap 
travels  with  her,  he  drives  a  bit  cart  be 
hind,"  (Ah,  thinks  I,  that  's  better)  "  and 
carries  her  tent  and  fixings.  Then  she  ups 
with  the  tent  and  puts  a  kind  of  stage  like 
before  it,  and  lectures,  as  you  might  say, 
about  the  war  with  the  Yankees,  and  how 
she  was  a  prisoner  aboard  the  Wasp,  and  how 
she  got  away  and  whipped  a  chap  as  chased 
her  ;  then  out  comes  the  lad  that  's  with  her 
and  they  fight  a  round  or  two  with  wooden 
cutlasses,  and  then  down  he  drops  and  that 
is  the  end.  'T  is  a  proper  fine  show,"  said 
the  old  lad,  "  and  a  pretty  lass  too,"  says  he, 
a  wagging  his  head,  "  but  I  doubt  she  's  a 
vixen,"  says  he. 

I  left  the  old  man  at  Torrington  and 
footed  it  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Bideford. 
At  the  south  end  of  the  town  I  saw  a  tavern 
and  I  went  in  and  got  a  long  glass  of  ale. 


254  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  Where  's  this  show  of  the  sailor  lass  ?  " 
says  I  to  the  barmaid. 

She  looked  me  over  and  laughed.  "  You 
mean  Gunner  Nancy,"  says  she,  "  why  just 
beyond  the  bridge  in  an  open  bit,  a  com 
mon  like,"  says  she — "  half  the  King's 
navy  's  been  along  this  way  to  see  her," 
says  she,  laughing  again,  "  and  I  can't  tell 
why,  the  bold,  forward  creature  she  is." 

I  did  n't  listen  to  more,  but  was  out  and 
down  the  road  again,  and  not  long  after 
came  to  the  bridge  and  crossed.  I  saw  a 
crowd  in  an  open  lot,  I  saw  a  little  round 
tent,  and  behind  it  a  wagon  rigged  like  a 
house  on  wheels  and  big  signs  swinging  down 
its  sides. 

"  Gunner  Nancy,"  the  biggest  of  the  signs 
read. 

"  She  will  tell  of  her  long  captivity  aboard 
the  Yankee  sloop-of-war  the  Wasp.  How 
that  ship  at  last  was  sunk  by  H.  B.  M.  F.  Sar- 
dis,  and  how  she  made  her  escape,  cutting 
down  and  taking  prisoner  a  Yankee  who 
pursued  her.  He  is  now  on  parole  and 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  255 


attached  to  the  entertainment,  and  will 
engage  in  a  fearful  cutlass  encounter  with 
his  fair  captor." 

Here  was  enough  to  make  a  dead  man 
laugh,  but  there  was  no  laugh  in  me.  I  'd 
given  up  trying  to  reason  out  what  Nancy, 
with  her  show  and  her  follower  and  her 
stories  about  the  Wasp,  and  taking  a  Yankee 
prisoner  might  have  got  to  be  ;  gone  wrong 
or  gone  mad,  I  could  not  think  which.  But 
I  'd  made  up  my  mind  to  see  her  and  speak 
with  her,  if  but  for  a  moment,  and  that  I  was 
set  on.  As  I  slipped  in  among  the  crowd 
about  the  platform  in  front  her  tent  I  saw 
many  of  them  were  seafaring  men,  and  in  the 
first  row  I  saw  the  bucks  who  'd  driven  past 
me  at  Torrington.  They  were  a  jolly  crew 
and  quite  tipsy  some  of  'em,  by  now. 

The  crowd  was  a  noisy  one  and  kept 
shouting,  "  Nancy  !  Nancy  !  Gunner  !  Gun 
ner  !  "  till  presently  the  flaps  of  the  tent 
opened  and  she  came  out  and  curtseyed. 

Aye,  't  was  Nancy  Barker,  none  other. 
She  looked  older,  and  sadder,  yes  and  thin- 


256  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


ner,  but  't  was  she.  I  turned  half  faint  as  I 
looked  at  her  and  lurched  heavy  against  an 
old  boy  to  my  right,  who  damned  me,  and 
told  me  to  stop  fouling  of  him. 

There  was  something  about  the  lass  that 
cut  me  to  the  heart  and  yet  made  me  almost 
wild  with  happiness.  'T  was  in  her  face. 
She  'd  bow  and  smile  and  strut  up  and  down 
the  little  stage,  and  maybe  those  who  'd 
never  seen  her  really  smile  thought  her  face 
was  always  as  it  was  this  day,  and  that  look 
on  it  meant  nothing  and  was  always  there. 
I  knew  better.  I  'd  seen  her  face  when  she 
was  happy  and  't  was  never  the  one  she 
carried  with  her  as  she  waited  for  the  crowd 
to  get  still  and  begin  her  yarn.  And  at 
times  a  glance  would  come  into  her  eye  that 
I  saw  there  the  day  Josh  Sewall  died  and  I 
knew  she  'd  not  forgotten  yet ;  and  little  as 
it  was, — to  know  that  she  still  remembered 
me,  for  I  felt  sure  't  was  so,  seemed  for  the 
time  enough  for  me,  be  she  what  she  might. 

As  soon  as  the  crowd  got  half-way  quiet 
she  began.  I  can't  give  here  all  that  she 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  257 


said,  but  't  was  a  lingo  learned  like  a  Poll- 
parrot's.  I  'd  ha'  laughed  hearty  at  some  of 
it  had  it  not  been  Nancy,  and  had  there 
been  a  laugh  left  in  the  locker,  which  there 
wasn't,  for  'twas  ruck  and  rubbish. 

"  She  's  never  writ  that  herself,"  thinks  I, 
"  too  many  words,  and  too  little  truth  for  a 
lass  like  her."  Why,  she  'd  speak  of  the 
Yankees  as  if  we  could  n't  fight,  and  then  in 
the  same  breath  she  'd  tell  how  we  'd  cut  the 
Reindeer  into  matchwood  and  sunk  \ho.Avon. 
How  we  could  be  such  bloody  cowards  as 
her  speech  made  out  we  were,  and  yet  do  as 
good  work,  beat  me,  but  Lord,  it  pleased  all 
the  crowd,  the  sailors  chief,  and  they  cheered 
and  shouted  to  her  and  chucked  sixpences 
and  shillings  on  to  the  platform. 

Then  Nancy  would  bow  and  smile,  that 
smile  that  came  and  went  without  ever 
knowing  what  her  heart  was  thinking  of. 

I  saw  my  gentleman  with  the  one  arm 
did  n't  care  much  for  this.  Once  when  one 
of  his  friends  hit  him  a  clap  on  the  shoulder 

and  asked  him  why  he  did  n't  cheer,  he  said 
17 


258  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


something  very  short.  Well,  so  the  thing 
ran  on.  She  told  about  the  Wasp's  crew,  its 
officers,  and  its  guns.  I  found  we  carried 
22  guns  a  broadside  and  350  men  in  our 
crew,  and  "  of  course,"  as  a  couple  of  chaps 
near  me  said,  "  of  course  we  could  whip  a 
brig  like  the  Reindeer  easy." 

By  and  by  she  came  to  the  last  fight. 
'T  was  not  so  near  the  truth  as  the  rest.  The 
hand  that  wrote  the  Reindeer  and  Avon  en 
gagements  might  ha'  seen  'em,  but  never 
that  last  grapple  in  the  night.  One  thing 
she  did  tell  true,  and  that  was  the  minute's 
space  that  she  sprang  aboard  the  Sardis  and 
I  after. 

"  'T  was  this  way,"  ran  her  yarn,  so  near 
as  I  can  repeat,  "  the  Yankee  sloop  was  help 
less.  She  would  not  mind  her  helm,  her 
port  guns  were  all  dismounted,  and  she  had 
one  hope,  and  that  was  to  come  aboard.  A 
wild  hope  and  a  mad  one,  gentlemen  all,  for 
a  Yankee  to  ever  think  to  carry  a  King's 
ship  by  boarding.  At  long  bowls  they  may 
be  good,  but  foot  to  foot,  hand  to  hand, 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  259 


steel  to  steel,  no  man  can  stand  against  a 
true  Briton." 

Of  course  there  was  a  shout  and  a  cheer 
at  this.  I  heard  the  one-armed  boy  say  to 
another,  "  That  's  a  blooming  bounce,  but 
she 's  a  pretty  shrew  !  " 

"  Just  as  they  called  '  Boarders  away  ! '  I 
sprang  up  the  hatchway,"  goes  on  Nancy, 
"  I  ran  to  the  port  bulwarks,  such  as  were 
left  of  them,  and  sprang  into  one  of  the  ports 
of  the  Sardis.  A  sailor  from  the  Wasp 
leaped  at  the  same  moment,  and  I  turned 
and  in  a  flash  drew  my  cutlass  and —  '  As 
she  said  this  the  flaps  of  the  tent  flew  open, 
and  a  man  rigged  in  American  seaman's  togs 
runs  out  and  they  began  a  sort  of  broad 
sword  play. 

There  was  great  laughing  and  cheering. 
You  'd  ha'  supposed  't  was  all  dead  earnest, 
and  aboard  the  Sardis,  to  hear  them  cheer 
the  girl  and  curse  the  poor  devil  who  took 
the  part  of  the  Yankee.  As  for  me  I  was 
two  parts  angry  to  hear  us  miscalled  as  we 
had  been,  and  yet  with  it  all  was  a  feeling, 


262  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


"  I  '11  do  that,  sir,  thanks  to  you,"  says  I, 
and  I  looked  at  Nancy  again.  She  was  so 
white  and  scared  looking,  and  her  hands 
that  had  hid  her  eyes  were  clutching  now  at 
her  throat.  I  pitied  her  till  I  looked  again 
at  the  sneak  at  her  feet,  who  did  not  dare 
look  me  in  the  eye. 

"  One  thing  I  '11  ask,"  says  I,  "  gentlemen, 
with  your  permission — I  '11  ask  this  lady  if 
I  'm  not  Bill  Fry,  of  the  sloop  Wasp" 

There  was  a  stir  at  this,  you  may  lay  to 
that,  but 't  was  nothing  to  the  yell  that  went 
up  when  the  girl  said  in  a  kind  of  whisper, 
"  Yes,  't  is  true,  you  are." 

Well,  there  was  another  dash  for  me — men 
cursed  and  struck  at  me.  The  young  officer 
and  his  friends  formed  around  me,  but  in 
spite  of  this  I  was  hit  again  and  again  with 
sticks  and  canes. 

"  Let  us  have  'im,  Mr.  George,  give  him 
up,"  yelled  the  crowd,  "  we  've  all  a  score  to 
pay  the  Yankee  pirate,  give  him  to  us." 

"  Give  him  to  you,  you  cowards ! "  yells 
the  lad  back  ;  "  scores  to  pay,  do  you  say  ? 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  263 


Why,  have  n't  I  a  score  against  the  Wasp  as 
well  ?  Look  at  this  sleeve  !  I  have  a  score 
to  pay  some  day  at  sea  like  a  man,  not  by 
kicking  and  mauling  and  pounding  an  un 
armed  man,  fifty  to  one,"  says  he.  "  Get 
back,  get  back, — you  know  me,  and  you 
know  my  father  ;  get  back,  or  some  one  will 
be  laid  by  the  heels  !  "  says  he.  "  Now,  my 
man, "he  says  to  me,  "jump  on  the  platform 
and  say  your  say." 

I  crawled  on  to  the  staging  and  staggered 
to  my  feet — I  am  obstinate  and  want  to  go 
through  with  what  I  begin,  and  winded  as  I 
was  I  says,  catching  my  breath  now  and 
again  : 

"  I  am  one  of  the  Wasp's  crew,  and  I  'm 
proud  of  it." 

"  Hold  your  Yankee  brag,  curse  you  !  " 
yells  a  man. 

"  You  Ve  a  right  to  be  proud,"  says  the 
young  officer.  "  Stop  your  blasted  noise, 
Robbins,"  says  he  to  the  man  who  cursed 
me. 

"  And  I  saw  the  Reindeer  fight,  I  was  in 


264  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


it,  and  all  the  lass  says  is  true.  Only  this,  if 
the  Yankees  are  cowards,  what  praise  is  it 
for  Manners's  men  to  make  such  a  fine  fight 
when  the  odds  were  but  three  to  two," 
says  I. 

"A  good  point,  a  good  point,"  says  the 
officer,  "  I  can  swear  they  're  no  cowards. 
I  was  there  myself." 

"  And  I  saw  our  sloop  sink  the  Avon,  and 
I  was  in  the  Sardis  fight,"  I  goes  on,  "  and 
right  here  I  want  to  say,  mates  and  gentle 
men,  that  the  lass  is  not  fair  to  herself,  not 
fair  at  all.  'T  was  true  she  sprang  into  the 
port  of  the  frigate,  as  she  says.  'T  was  true 
a  Yankee  sailor  followed  her.  'T  was  true 
she  turned  and  cut  him  down,  but  't  is  not 
true  that  that  man  there,  lying  at  her  feet, 
a  sneak  who  deserted  his  ship  before  the 
fight,  was  the  man  who  followed.  His  line 
is  n't  boarding  ships,  mates,  not  his.  Little 
credit  to  her  to  cut  down  that  poor  spirited 
swab — no  ;  the  man  she  struck  was  a  man, 
a  man,  mates  and  gentlemen,  and  an  able- 
bodied  seaman,  and  his  name  is  mine.  It  's 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  265 


Bill  Fry,  and  here  's  the  mark  of  her  cutlass 
yet,"  and  I  staggered  and  half  sank  to  my 
knees.  I  did  n't  know  what  was  up  till,  as 
I  took  my  hat  off  and  pushed  up  the  bandage 
to  show  the  cut,  a  stream  of  blood  poured 
down  my  face.  A  blow  from  some  stick  had 
done  it. 

I  did  n't  exactly  faint,  for  I  remember 
what  took  place  then.  I  see  yet  the  look  of 
horror  and  self-reproach  on  Nancy's  face  as 
she  listened,  and  the  tears  that  went  down 
her  cheeks,  her  lips  that  quivered,  and  the 
smile  they  tried  to  form,  as  she  ran  to  me 
when  I  tottered,  and  kneeled  and  flung  her 
arms  around  me. 

"  Mates,"  she  cried,  in  her  old  way,  "  I 
hear  it  now.  'T  is  my  true  love,  Bill  Fry — a 
Yankee,  maybe,  but  a  brave,  true,  kind 
manner  that  I  Ve  been  dying  for  ever  since 
I  thought  him  gone.  'T  is  I  struck  him, 
mates,  but  I  did  't  know  him  in  the  smoke 
and  the  smother,  and  the  wound  that  's  been 
in  my  heart,  lads,  since  I  thought  him  dead 
is  deeper  yet." 


266  Will  o'  the  Wasp 


This  I  remember,  almost  word  for  word, 
and  little  else  except  the  crowd  a-cheering, 
and  the  young  officer  shaking  my  hand  and 
Nancy's  and  cheering  and  crying  as  well. 


'T  is  fifteen  years  since  this  took  place. 
Fifteen  years  since  Nancy  and  I  found  each 
other  again.  She  'd  started  her  little  show 
and  lecture  to  make  her  living.  She  landed 
desperate,  wretched,  her  money — the  little 
she  had — on  the  Wasp,  and  nothing  in  her 
pocket  but  my  letter.  'T  was  this  she  read 
over  and  over  and  believed  one  hour  and 
doubted  the  next,  but  she  wore  it  close  to 
her  heart,  she  told  me. 

One  day  Jim  Downs,  who  was  hanging 
about  Bideford,  saw  her  sign  and  looked  for 
her.  She  knew  him  then  for  what  he  was, 
yet  as  a  venture  they  agreed  to  fix  up  the 
little  show  together  (he  wrote  the  yarn  she 
spoke,  as  I  suspicioned),  but  they  were 
partners  only  that  far. 

"  Will,"  says  she,  "  I  don't  want  you  to 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  267 


ask  me  if  that  coward  has  ever  been  more 
to  me  than  a  kind  of  hired  servant,  and  a 
dummy  man,"  says  she.  "  I  'd  despise  you 
if  you  could  ask  me  such  a  question,  but  as 
you  want  to  know  so  bad,"  says  she,  kissing 
me,  "  I  '11  say  that  he  was  no  more  to  me 
than  a  dog,  nor  so  much,  for  I  '11  kiss  my 
dog,  Boxer,  and  that  's  more  than  ever  I 
did  for  Jim  Downs,  nor  so  much  as  touched 
him,  except  with  my  foot,  in  the  cutlass 
fight,"  she  says. 

Yes,  't  is  many  a  long  year  since  then. 
What  came  to  Downs  I  never  knew.  He 
sneaked  out  of  Bideford,  and  he  never 
showed  face  to  me  again.  Nancy  and  I 
were  married  in  two  weeks.  "  Short  court 
ship,"  says  Sir  George  as  now  is,  the  young 
officer  who  stood  my  friend  and  who  swore 
he  'd  give  the  bride  away,  if  only  for  a 
chance  to  kiss  her. 

"  Short,  sir,"  says  I,  "  not  so  very.  We 
were  courting  a  bit  on  the  Wasp,  when  we 
were  n't  fighting,"  I  says. 

"  It  's  best  short  then,"  say  he,   "  on  the 


268  Will  o-'  the  Wasp 


present  tack,  for  the  Lord  knows  when  you  '11 
begin  fighting  again."  But  't  was  his  joke, 
that  is  all. 

One  might  think,  maybe,  that  two  people, 
as  quick  to  pay  away  on  the  temper  as 
Nancy  and  I,  would  ha'  found  catspaws  and 
chopped  seas  in  our  course  plenty.  But 
't  was  not  so.  The  day  we  were  married  she 
says  to  me,  says  Nancy  : 

"  Will— I  '11  try,  that 's  the  best  I  can  say, 
to  be  a  good  mate  for  you,"  she  says. 

"  Mate  !  lass,"  says  I,  "  you  '11  be  captain — 
not  mate,"  says  I,  joking,  "  that 's  my  rank," 
I  says. 

"  No,  dear,  you  're  to  command,"  says  she, 
and  then  for  a  spell  we  argufied,  till  at  last 
we  agreed  to  both  command,  and  both  obey 
orders,  and  our  ship  with  its  two  captains 
never  struck  foul  weather  or  shoal  water. 

I  was  minded  at  first  to  go  home,  but  Nancy 
had  such  a  love  for  England,  and  I  can't 
blame  her,  and  I  was  n't  needed  at  home  ; 
and  when  Sir  George  Warmouth  offered  me 
the  post  of  lodge-keeper  to  him  I  went. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  269 


'T  is  not  a  bad  job — slow  at  times  and  dull, 
but  easy  for  one  as  has  a  bad  nick  in  his 
crown.  Hard  work,  or  work  at  sea,  I  never 
could  do  again.  Oh,  the  times  I  've  dreamed 
of  the  fresh  salt  smell,  of  the  snore  of  the 
gale  in  the  shrouds,  of  the  pleasant  heel  and 
dip  of  a  clipper  ship.  But  no  more  of  that 
for  Bill  Fry.  When  I  'm  old,  if  I  have  a  bit 
laid  by,  I  '11  go  to  where  I  can  see  the  blue 
water  each  day  and  each  hour.  Now  I  '11  do 
what  I  may  to  keep  a  place  that 's  a  good 
one,  all  round. 

My  little  lass  has  grown  to  be  a  big  girl 
now  with  a  spice  of  her  mother's  spirit — her 
mother  that 's  gone  these  five  years — but  not 
her  face — there  was  never — will  never  be 
again  in  God's  round  world,  a  face  like 
Nancy  Barker's  to  Bill  Fry. 

My  boy  is  going  in  a  few  years,  to  follow 
the  sea — as  far  as  old  New  England,  there 
to  be  what  he  can't  be  here — as  good  as  the 
next  man,  and  a  Yankee. 

THE   END. 


268  Will  oj  the  Wasp 


present  tack,  for  the  Lord  knows  when  you  '11 
begin  fighting  again."  But  't  was  his  joke, 
that  is  all. 

One  might  think,  maybe,  that  two  people, 
as  quick  to  pay  away  on  the  temper  as 
Nancy  and  I,  would  ha'  found  catspaws  and 
chopped  seas  in  our  course  plenty.  But 
't  was  not  so.  The  day  we  were  married  she 
says  to  me,  says  Nancy  : 

"  Will— I  '11  try,  that 's  the  best  I  can  say, 
to  be  a  good  mate  for  you,"  she  says. 

"  Mate  !  lass,"  says  I,  "  you  '11  be  captain — 
not  mate," says  I,  joking,  "that's  my  rank," 
I  says. 

"  No,  dear,  you  're  to  command,"  says  she, 
and  then  for  a  spell  we  argufied,  till  at  last 
we  agreed  to  both  command,  and  both  obey 
orders,  and  our  ship  with  its  two  captains 
never  struck  foul  weather  or  shoal  water. 

I  was  minded  at  first  to  go  home,  but  Nancy 
had  such  a  love  for  England,  and  I  can't 
blame  her,  and  I  was  n't  needed  at  home  ; 
and  when  Sir  George  Warmouth  offered  me 
the  post  of  lodge-keeper  to  him  I  went. 


Will  o'  the  Wasp  269 


'T  Is  not  a  bad  job — slow  at  times  and  dull, 
but  easy  for  one  as  has  a  bad  nick  in  his 
crown.  Hard  work,  or  work  at  sea,  I  never 
could  do  again.  Oh,  the  times  I  Ve  dreamed 
of  the  fresh  salt  smell,  of  the  snore  of  the 
gale  in  the  shrouds,  of  the  pleasant  heel  and 
dip  of  a  clipper  ship.  But  no  more  of  that 
for  Bill  Fry.  When  I  'm  old,  if  I  have  a  bit 
laid  by,  I  '11  go  to  where  I  can  see  the  blue 
water  each  day  and  each  hour.  Now  I  '11  do 
what  I  may  to  keep  a  place  that 's  a  good 
one,  all  round. 

My  little  lass  has  grown  to  be  a  big  girl 
now  with  a  spice  of  her  mother's  spirit — her 
mother  that 's  gone  these  five  years — but  not 
her  face — there  was  never — will  never  be 
again  in  God's  round  world,  a  face  like 
Nancy  Barker's  to  Bill  Fry. 

My  boy  is  going  in  a  few  years,  to  follow 
the  sea — as  far  as  old  New  England,  there 
to  be  what  he  can't  be  here — as  good  as  the 
next  man,  and  a  Yankee. 

THE   END. 


AND  OTHER  POEMS 

BY 
ROBERT    CAMERON    ROGERS 

Second  Edition,  12°,  $1.25 
PRESS  NOTICES 


"  Other  young  poets  might  have  written,  each  in  his  own 
way,  no  doubt,  '  The  \Vind  in  the  Clearing,'  the  concep 
tion  of  which  has  not  been  fairly  mastered  by  Mr.  Rogers  ; 
but  no  other  young  poet,  certainly  none  of  American 
growth,  could  have  written  some  of  the  classical  poems 
which  follow,  and  which  are  valuable  additions  to  our 
scanty  store  of  genuine  and  noble  classical  verse. 
He  has  something  to  learn,  and  will  learn  it,  no  doubt, 
through  future  practice  ;  but  he  has  not  much  to  unlearn, 
for  he  is  not  mannered  in  his  diction,  which  is  easy  and 
picturesque,  and  in  his  choice  of  subjects  he  shows  the  in 
stinct  of  a  true  poet." — RICHARD  HENRY  STODDARD,  in 
New  York  Mail  and  Express. 

"  There  is  always  running  through  the  book  a  vein  of 
feeling  so  exalted,  and  so  well  kept  in  hand  by  the  shap 
ing  control  of  an  artist,  that  the  work  will  be  read  with  in 
terest  by  every  lover  of  poetry." — The  Scotsman,  Edin 
burgh. 

"  It  is  most  encouraging  that  several  volumes  of  poetry 
showing  definite  promise  lor  the  future  have  recently  been 
published  by  young,  untried  poets  in  this  country,  where 
the  outlook  in  poetry  has  been  of  late  years  very  disheart 
ening.  Among  these  younger  men  none  has  shown  brighter 
promise  nor  better  achievement  than  Mr.  Robert  Cameron 
Rogers." — Literary  World. 

"  Exquisite,  in  the  good  sense  of  the  word,  some  of  his 
poems  are,  and,  while  others  are  less  perfect,  all  are  ani 
mated  by  a  deep  and  manly  sentiment  making  pure  joy  in 
the  mind.  .  .  .  When  his  motive  is  Greek,  his  verse 
is,  contrary  to  the  usual  order,  most  natural,  most  spontane 
ous,  and  most  personal.  He  does  not  translate,  he  lives  in 
'  Blind  Polyphemus,'  '  Odysseus  at  the  Mast,'  and  '  The 
Death  of  Argus.'  His  thought  is  at  once  the  Greek  idea 
and  his  own  conception." — N.  Y.  Times. 


G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORK  &  LONDON 


